


Storks Ltd.

by FaerieChild



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 70,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9911285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieChild/pseuds/FaerieChild
Summary: THIS STORY IS COMPLETE. Brienne of Tarth feels lucky to have a well paying job at Lannister Corporation but as a high born woman and the last of her House she feels an obligation to continue her line. With no desire to settle down and find a husband, she decides to have a child on her own. Jaime Lannister, Brienne's boss and colleague has always wanted children he can acknowledge and is under increasing pressure from his father to provide an heir for the Lannister dynasty. Yet what starts out as a pragmatic solution between friends soon leads to something more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and comes in at around 70k words in 40 chapters plus an epilogue. I do all my own proof reading so apologies for any spelling errors, typos or plot bunnies that I have failed to pick up. I have rated this story as M because of a couple of more explicit chapters but most of this story is Gen/Teen. In posting this story to AO3 I would like to thank the Jaime/Brienne fandom on tumblr who have liked and commented and messaged me and cheered me on while I worked away at this story and without their wholehearted support, this work would likely never have been completed.

Brienne Tarth wished she could say she had never thought about whether or not to have children. Had her circumstances been different, she would have happily gone through her entire life without once thinking on the subject. As it was, being the heir of a House, the Evenstar and the symbolic leader of the whole island of Tarth she did not have that luxury.

Since her father’s passing the subject had become all the more pressing. She really wasn’t too fussed about having children. Perhaps if the right man had come along, someone who wasn’t a total arsehole, who she could actually stand to spend any time with, she might have settled down. Focusing on her career and living in King’s Landing had been her own choice, but she took her responsibilities seriously. Eventually she had decided on one. She didn’t need a whole family, all she needed was one child. The first few years might be difficult, but after that it would start school. They would do homework together, eat meals together. The thought of spending her life looking after and carting around a football team of children horrified her, but one – one would be managable. Besides, Brienne had grown up on her own. It would be a small family, but Brienne had known nothing else since her mother and siblings had passed.

The next decision, having decided to have a child, was what to do about creating it. There was a sperm clinic, giving her a variety of options, anything she could ask for in terms of intelligence, heritage, age and other features. Somehow it did not sit right. It was an option, but Brienne couldn’t help but feel it shouldn’t be her first option. All sorts of arrangements were made to start families these days. Gay couples who co-parented with the other biological parent. Friends having children together. Had Renly lived, Brienne knew she would have asked him in a heartbeat and he probably would have said yes. It would have involved co-parenting with him and Loras, but Brienne could have lived with that. Olenna Tyrell would probably be happy with the idea of joining their houses in blood but unlike Renly, Loras Tyrell was not someone Brienne considered father material.

Brienne stared at the window, watching the reflection of the streetlights in the raindrops on the window. Her mind had started slowing down, tiring. She decided to go to bed and sleep on it.

Sitting at her desk the following morning, Brienne adjusted the angle of her drawing board and raised her set square to mark a new line on her design. The particular angle of the light as it came in the window at this time of day was good for working and as she went through the motions of setting her latest design to paper, her mind ran through her options. If she wasn’t going to use a sperm bank, her list of potential fathers was really not all that long. In fact, she really wondered where to start. It would have to be someone who was happy with the idea, the idea either of becoming a father or at the very least fathering children. Then there was the question of how involved the potential father would want to be. It would have to be someone who could understand the desire to be a parent without the desire to set up a house together and form a relationship. It would have to be someone she could stand to have in her life for a long time, even if only as a formality. Potentially, however, it would be a lot more than a formality. It might be name day celebrations and weekly dinners and shared custody for now and forever.

Working as an in-house graphic designer for the Lannisters was not where Brienne thought she would end up in life. She was technically still only borrowed from the Stark Design Company, but Brienne knew that with the change in circumstances there, the chances of her ever going back were fairly slim. Tywin Lannister had made clear that she had a position here for as long as she wanted it, in his usual cutting, unemotive manner. Brienne understood she was simply an underling who was useful to him. Her position as a minor noble probably made him think it was some sort of coup to have her working for him in some capacity, if only to brag about to others as another name to add to his extensive networking list.

Brienne was deep in thought, concentrating on her work when the door opened. Two of the other three designers who worked out of the small office here in the main Lannister Corp building had to make a business trip to Lannisport and would not return for some time. The other was on annual leave and Brienne had enjoyed having the place to herself.

“Tarth?”

Brienne made an horrific scratch across the paper with her pencil as she jumped with the shock. Tywin’s son, Jaime Lannister, was standing in her doorway. He had an office across the hall where he coordinated with departments, distributed briefs and looked over their work. To say he was their boss wasn’t strictly correct, he was more of a go-between. Everyone knew Tywin Lannister ran the show. Behind the cover of graphic design, Jaime used his position to do his father’s enforcement work. His position gave him direct lines to every head of department in the company. If anything happened, he heard about it. There might be a HR department but Jaime Lannister was the phonecall most people did not want to get in the middle of the day.

For some reason Brienne had never understood, from the moment she entered the office as the highest scoring graphic design student ever to graduate from Kings Landing University, Brienne had ended up in Jaime Lannister’s firing line.

Slowly, Brienne set down her pencil and looked up at her not-quite-boss. “Jaime.”

Due to his father’s inexplicable insistence on having the Evenstar working at Lannister Corp., Jaime Lannister could do nothing to drive Brienne Tarth out. That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t needle her at every available opportunity. Her height, her freckles, her plain looks, her uneven teeth and even the way other men behaved towards her had all been targets of his sharp tongue.

For Brienne, there was nothing original in his insults or teases, even if he did deliver his words with a cutting sharpness that many of her other tormentors down the years had lacked. Oddly, her work had never seemed to displease him. Even as he prodded at her ugly features and freckles, he would deliver her the prime assignments and compliment her work, if only to instigate a blush that he could use as target practice.

Sometimes his sister visited and Brienne always made sure to close the door onto the corridor when that happened. There were only so many times one needed to hear one’s boss shagging his sister before it got old. She came, they made his desk creak, she left again. Brienne wondered why they didn’t book a hotel. Why Jaime always – according to the drivers in the car park – stayed at his own place and never at hers. Nor did his sister sleep over. Her three children were the spitting image of Jaime, particularly the youngest. The eldest, Joffrey, had recently died after having his drink spiked at a party but Jaime had shown little sign of grief or concern. One night a few days after Joffrey’s death some two months ago, Brienne had returned to pick up something from her desk late one night and found Bronn out cold sleeping on the floor and Jaime at his desk, pissed to his eyeballs and ranting to the walls about the vicious little bastard he had fathered.

Jaime’s drunken confession had taught her two things: One, he was the father of Cersei’s children. Two, he had always wanted children of his own, to be a father not a sperm donor. Jaime loved no one but his sister and couldn’t be with her and she wouldn’t let him near Tommen and Myrcella.

Brienne had waited until he passed out, then carried him to the couch in his office and covered him with the blanket laid over the back. She had sat on the floor, resting her head against the arm of the couch in case he woke up and choked on his own vomit. In the morning, after an uncomfortable night, Jaime was still out cold when she went to use the company gym and locker room showers. By the time she got to her office Bronn had disappeared into Jaime’s office, both of them trying to patch together the blank patches in their memory of the night before. Ever since then, Jaime had given her an odd look when they passed and his sharp tongue, while still present, had stilled itself more than once.

Of course, they still bickered over everything the was to bicker about. Now as he stood in the doorway, Brienne could not help thinking that he had probably come to pick an argument about something else. The fillings on the sandwiches that had been ordered for lunch. The quality of the pens in the latest stationery order.

He took slow steps over to her desk and leaned over her shoulder to peruse her work, now with a notable streak across most of the page where her pencil had slipped. “I see the new marketing campaign is coming along well.”

“Shut up,” Brienne groused. “You did that deliberately.”

“Deliberate? Why Tarth, what a mean-spirited thing to insinuate at this time in the morning. And here we are, trying to come across as a company that is more inclusive and family-friendly.”

“I’m sure you’d know all about that, Sir.”

“When Lannisters aren’t stabbing each other in the back they’re planning the next attempt,” Jaime retorted dryly. “That’s why we have people like you working here to tell us how the other half lives.”

“Fine,” Brienne crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”

Jaime perched himself on Bronn’s empty desk and matched her crossed arms. “Can’t a man just come and make conversation with his favourite colleague?”

Brienne tilted her head at him.

“Sansa Stark has applied to study graphic design at King’s Landing university. Word is she plans to revive her mother’s business when she graduates.”

“And you’re here to what, make sure I know who holds the leash?”

Jaime sighed softly. “Brienne, you and Catlyn were very close. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go back.”

“Even if Sansa Stark gets in, which she may not, it will be several years before she’s in a position to run the place herself. My life could be very different by then. If she asks, yes. I’d consider it. She hasn’t asked.”

Jaime’s brows drew together. “What do you mean your life could be very different? I wasn’t aware you had a life.”

Brienne was not amused. “If it’s quite alright, I’d like to get on with my work now.”

“Brienne…”

The look she gave him left Jaime in no doubt that the conversation was over. He slid off the desk and slinked back to his office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like starting off with a double post to get the ball rolling. Going forwards I will try to post a chapter every day or two, time and technology permitting.

All of the rest of that day and all of the next day, Brienne could not get Jaime out of her mind. Bronn returned from his presentation full of smiles and self-congratulations and loudly bragged to anyone who would listen about his plans for a night on the town to celebrate. Brienne was grateful he decided to leave early and make up the time later. She was putting the finishing touches to her latest project and hoped to get it done by the end of the night. Gradually as the clock hit five o'clock a steady stream of office workers passed by the door, their mindless chatter increasing and decreasing in slow-motion doppler as they passed her office in waves. Across the hall, Jaime Lannister’s light was still on. When she finally got her project completed around eight o'clock, she went to put the file on his desk for the morning and found him still there, a glass of scotch in one hand as he looked at Tommen’s school picture. He barely blinked when Brienne put the file on his desk.

“You ever wonder what it would be like to have one of your own, Tarth?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jaime looked up. “Really? I thought you were the ‘no marriage, no children’ type.”

“I’m the Evenstar. The last of my line. I’ll need to have a child at some point.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

“I’m not sure I could stand the thought of three or four. Even two sounds a bit much. I’ve always been rather neutral on the idea of being a parent, but maybe one?” Brienne paused and then shrugged.

Jaime put his scotch down and sat up. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Why, are you going to fire me?”

“Of course I’m not going to fire you!” Jaime screwed up his face at the very idea. “Actually I’m rather jealous. Just, pick a looker for the father, Tarth. Might as well give the kid a fighting chance.”

Brienne blushed from the neck of her top to her hairline. “There are ways of having children, Sir, if it’s important to you.”

“Oh, really? Do enlighten me. I could look forward to nine months of awkwardness with a surrogate while my sister tries on a daily basis to end their life. Or I could always adopt. All I’ve ever wanted was to get a vasectomy and adopt while my biological children run around calling me uncle.”

“I presume that’s some vague attempt at sarcasm,” Brienne sniped. “As it happens, I’ve actually been thinking of the sperm bank.”

“The sperm bank?” Jaime threw back his scotch and then slammed his glass one the table with a shake of the head. “Go home, Tarth, you’re drunk.”

“Jaime…”

“Do you have any idea what it is like, to watch them grow up. To stand on the sidelines, to have them call me Uncle and kiss me goodbye and never really know? Do you have any idea?!” It was a snarl. A jealous, anger that Brienne had never before witnessed in him. It took her aback. “You don’t have the slightest clue what I would do for the chance of what you’ve got. The chance to have my own, to call it mine, to raise it and love it and…” Jaime broke off into a choked, angry sobb.

“I…I had no idea.”

“No.” Jaime slumped and as he did so all the energy, all his willpower seemed to leave his body. “So unless you plan to get knocked up on my desk tonight, take my advice and go home!”

Brienne backed out of the room, leaving him to his scotch. She would have called Bronn but he was probably busy pulling some girl in a bar. Calling Cersei would probably be a bad idea. Brienne settled on sending a text to Tyrion and hoping for the best. He was away in Braavos on business, but at least if he called out of concern for his brother, Jaime would probably answer.

Probably.

 

That night, however, as Brienne drank hot chocolate in her pyjamas and stared out the window, she got to thinking about what Jaime Lannister had said. Once upon a time, Brienne would have had to think about marriage. It would have had to be an advantageous marriage, someone of appropriate status and probably someone who made her skin crawl, knowing her luck. Fortunately nowadays, settling down was not a prerequisite to having a child. She could still use an anonymous donor but since her unexpected encounter with Jaime Lannister a few hours before, something had been niggling, a thought sticking the back of her mind. It was a mad idea, she couldn’t even be considering it, could she? Why was it she now couldn’t think of anyone but Jaime when she thought of her plan, her baby’s father. She tried to revisit the idea of the sperm bank, of asking someone else – anyone else – but for the last two hours every time he tried to explore other options everything in her mind circled everything back to Jaime. She knew about him and his sister, so there was no danger of him pulling a Hyle Hunt and suddenly deciding they should marry and spend the rest of their lives together. No risk of him wanting more. But she knew too, now, how he yearned to be a real father and with his biological children all carryign the name Baratheon, Jaime needed an heir too.

Cersei, Brienne would need to watch out for. She couldn’t imagine Jaime’s sister being too hot on the idea of another woman carrying his child. The woman was jealous, spiteful and vindictive and extremely possessive towards Jaime but she could at least put it to him. It would be his choice, his choice and her choice. If this was something Jaime wanted to do Cersei didn’t need to know.

There were other benefits, too – having another pair of hands to help out if he wanted to be involved, which it seems was an aspect of fatherhood he felt he was currently missing out on. In truth, Brienne could see that he had been little more than a sperm donor and from what she could see, Cersei was controlling in a way that made Brienne feel uncomfortable. Brienne pulled herself away from that thought. Not everything had to be about Cersei. Jaime could help out if he wanted and the financial security he would doubtless impose on his child would be a weight off. It would be a pragmatic arrangement that would benefit both of them. Brienne needed to have an heir to keep the Tarth line going. She didn’t want to marry and Jaime wanted to be a father but was in a relationship with his sister. It was a situation many people would judge. Having never experienced reciprocal love before and having never been in a serious relationship, Brienne thought it would be rather hypocritical to do anything but reserve judgement on something she knew so little about.

If she did ask him and he said no, there was still the Sperm Bank. If worst came to worst there was the awful, leering security guard, Tormund. He had, on more than one occasion, offered to be Brienne’s baby Daddy, but she wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

 

Sleeping on the idea didn’t make it go away and she resolved to raise the subject with Jaime that morning. If she left it too long, it would feel awkward. He was the one, after all, who had suggested…she blushed at the thought. The truth was, she’d never felt comfortable enough with a man to allow any of them to have sex with her. Researching IVF clinics would need to be next on her list, if Jaime said yes. If not, the sperm bank would surely have a list of recommended specialists.

Brienne knew that if she tried to sit at her desk working away with this on her mind she would get absolutely no work done whatsoever today. Instead, following on from their conversation of the night before, she resolved to speak to Jaime first thing. If he said no, she could brush it off as a misunderstanding and say no more about it. She could but pray that he wouldn’t use it as a way to further humiliate her in the future. Her mind made up, she gathered her resolve as the lift doors opened and was immediately confronted with Cersei Lannister, smirking to herself and pushing past Brienne into the open lift as Brienne exited.

Brienne stared after the woman as the lift doors closed. Really, she shouldn’t be surprised any more by the woman’s self-righteous arrogance. She shook it off and made her way along the corridor to her office. As she came to a stop between the two doors of her office and Jaime’s, she saw his door was open. After a moment’s pause Brienne nudged the door open.

He was shirtless, all of his defined muscles and tanned skin on display.

His back was covered in fresh red welts and he hissed as he reached for his shirt.

“Jaime?” Brienne whispered. She thought about Cersei’s smug expression.

Jaime spun around, eyes wide. “Brienne?”

Brienne closed the door.

“Can you come back later?”

“Did she do that?” Brienne pressed.

“We were fucking. It got a bit rough.”

Brienne pressed her lips together and reminded herself what she had been taught as a child about not judging people. “Someone should clean that.”

Jaime didn’t make eye contact, but Brienne stood there waiting and imposing herself until she got a small nod. Fortunately there was a first aid kit in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Ten minutes later and Jaime was standing leaning over his desk with his back to Brienne as she dabbed gently at the bloody welts. “She’s broken skin in several areas. We can probably make do with sticking plasters but they’ll need changed regularly. I can come back at lunch.”

Jaime’s silence spoke volumes.

“Does she often hurt you?” Brienne asked quietly.

“Sometimes.”

She turned that answer over in her mind. Brienne herself was in no position to know where the line between rough sex and abuse stopped and started. Did he consent to it? If so why did he seem so down? Had something happened?

“I asked to see Tommen and Myrcella,” Jaime said quietly.

Brienne quietly went about taping up his wounds and helped him dress after, disposing of the used wipes and latex gloves in the bin and tying up the bag. When all was done he was dressed and sitting at his desk, only his posture giving away the fact that he was injured. “If it’s of any interest to you,” Brienne gathered her strength, “I actually came by this morning to ask…”

Jaime’s head tilted, silently.

Brienne could feel the blush rising in anticipation of her rejection. How stupid of her to think he might be serious, that these things that had felt like moments between them recently actually meant anything. “Nevermind,” She gave him a curt nod and backed out of the room.

Brienne did not see Jaime all the rest of that day or the next. A rumour went round the company of all three Lannister siblings being called into meetings with Tywin Lannister, of the secretaries reporting raging arguments between the various warring members of the family.

Brienne kept her head low and got on with her work. In the evening she looked up facilities and fertility options.


	3. Chapter 3

Two full days and half a weekend after Brienne had patched up Jaime Lannister in his office, Brienne was at home enjoying a Saturday night takeaway and some mindless late night television when there was a knock on her apartment door. It was unusual for her to get visitors. She had few friends and most of those who did know her only visited when they wanted something. There was a young office teaboy, Podrick, who had taken to acting as something of an assistant when she required one and on occasion he had been known to act as runner between her apartment and the office. He was just about the only regular visitor she had.

When Brienne opened the door, however, Jaime Lannister was standing on her doormat.

“Can I come in?”

Brienne led him to the living room and put the television on mute, implying subtly that he wouldn’t be staying long enough for her to go to the bother of turning it off. Jaime looked around. It was modest, but clean and practical. What there was in the way of furniture was expertly crafted, though there was a slightly spartan air about the place for someone who worked in such a creative role.

“Is everything ok?” Brienne asked, trying to read Jaime’s face for any sign of trouble.

Jaime refused to answer, moving instead towards the sofa. “Can I sit down?” Without waiting for an answer he helped himself to a seat in the empty space next to the place where Brienne had been sitting.

“I came by to change your bandages the other day but you’d gone,” Brienne started. She remained standing. It was the first time she had properly seen Jaime since that day. Brienne was so used to pieces of furniture being between them - a chair, a desk, a table - it felt strange to think of sitting at his side.

“I know. I left. Why did you come by my office that morning anyway?”

Brienne took half a step closer. She wavered about sitting down. It would be rude to stand, afterall, through the entire conversation.“I saw Cersei leaving.”

“So you decided to catch a glimpse of Jaime Lannister post-coital?” Jaime pushed. 

He had that expression on his face, that slightly twisted expression that told Brienne he would push and prod with his jibes until he got his information. Reluctantly she lowered herself into the empty seat she had previously occupied on the sofa. Brienne could already feel herself blushing at thought of discussing the matter of her plans. “I originally intended to come by to ask you a question. As I got out of the lift at the end of the hall, Cersei got in. Her expression concerned me. When I saw your door open I decided to check if you were ok.”

Jaime propped his head on the back of the sofa. He was looking at her with a pose that was straight out of some ridiculous fashion photoshoot. It probably was - more than once he’d done a photoshoot for Westeros Business Weekly.

“What was the question?” He said, “The thing you were going to ask me?”

Brienne made to open her mouth and then thought the better of it.

“My back’s fine, thanks for asking. Do you know, I keep having this dream of telling you all about me and Cersei when I was drunk. Did I really do that?”

Brienne nodded curtly. “Yes, Jaime.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“Who would I tell?” Brienne pointed out.

“What were you going to ask?” Jaime tried again.

Brienne stared down at her hands. Her overly large hands, to go with her overly large and awkward frame. Her ugly face. Her buck teeth. Her unsightly freckles.

“Brienne?” Jaime’s voice was soft, gentle in a way she had never heard before. “I trust you. What were you going to ask me that morning?”

“You implied that you wouldn’t…that you wouldn’t entirely be opposed to the idea of…” Brienne stopped. She had never been good with words. “You might recall we discussed my intention to have a child, to provide an heir for Tarth. In a roundabout way you implied you would be willing to help.”

Jaime stared, his jaw hanging slightly open.

“I realise it’s an unusual situation and you’ll give me no offense if you tell me you were drunk and I misunderstood. As it is, I’ve been making enquiries at Kings Landing sperm bank but if it’s something you’re interested in, it’s not that unusual now for friends or acquaintances outside of a relationship to have a child with IVF and co-parent. You could be as involved as you want.”

Still, no words came out of his mouth. Slowly, his mouth closed. Jaime swallowed hard. He blinked, and looked away. Cleared his throat. “Could I hold it?” He asked quietly.

Brienne frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“When it’s born. Could. I. Hold. It?” Jaime ground out.

The question stumped Brienne. “If you want,” She shrugged. “Not all fathers like to be there for the birth.”

“But you’d let me…” Jaime cleared his throat. “I could visit?”

“Well like I said, if you wanted to co-parent…” Brienne frowned and then the penny dropped. Cersei. “Jaime, I have no family. Having someone else there to help, to change nappies and take the baby for the weekend…whatever level of involvement you feel you could give would be very welcome. I wouldn’t have asked if that wasn’t the case.”

Jaime cleared his throat again and looked up. A single tear ran down his cheek and he pressed his lips together, swallowing hard the lump in his throat.

“Of course, I haven’t even picked an IVF clinic yet…” Brienne hummed.

Jaime looked up sharply. “No! No clinics. No doctors, no records. Cersei, you don’t understand, Brienne. If she knows I’m involved, you and the baby would both be in danger. If we need a cover we’ll tell people we’re working on a new project, or that the rebranding exercise is a much bigger job than we anticipated.”

“I’ve already finished it,” Brienne pointed out.

“Like I said, your provisional ideas are welcome but it’s turning out to be a much bigger job than originally anticipated,” Jaime said, staring pointedly at Brienne.

Brienne stopped. Her mind went back to Jaime’s statement. “Jaime, if we don’t use IVF how are you proposing we…” She looked at Jaime.

Jaime raised his eyesbrows and tilted his head.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Would you rather lie on a table with some doctor sticking needles up your lady bits? Of course, I’ve only ever had sex with one woman but I’m sure I could manage. Are you on birth control?”

Brienne’s face turned scarlet. “No.”

“I presume you have one of those ovulation pee sticks – I’ve seen the adverts.”

“But we can’t!” Brienne searched Jaime’s face.

“As far as I know we both have all the requisite parts, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” Jaime pointed out.

Brienne opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

“Well then. You can pee on a few sticks and we’ll talk about it more over the weekend,” Jaime reached for the television remote. “Are you watching this?”

“What are you doing?”

“I need a place to stay tonight. Cersei’s got one of her strongmen staking out my apartment. I barely got past him.”

“You’re using me to hide from your sister?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa. I won’t bother you.”

“Why would Cersei even do that?”

“Because apparently my behaviour has been erratic lately. Why do you think?”

“She was married to someone else for fifteen years,” Brienne’s natural frown deepened. She would never understand the relationship between Jaime and his sister, but fortunately she wasn’t planning on having a baby with Cersei.

“Can we please not talk about my sister?” Jaime slumped on the couch.

“Did you change your bandages?”

Jaime changed the channel over to sport. The crowd roared loudly and Jaime turned the volume up, drowning out Brienne’s demands. She sighed and pushed the leftover takeaway in his direction. “You’re an asshole.”

From his place slumped on the sofa Jaime strained his head back to look up at Brienne. “You’re just noticing this now?”

~

Brienne hadn’t had the heart to kick Jaime out. As it happened he fell asleep in front of the television. It seemed that putting him to bed was becoming something of a habit. She pulled off his shoes, lifted his feet onto the couch and laid a blanket over him.

Waking in the middle of the night she forgot he was there. She got up to get a glass of water and nearly murdered him with a wine bottle when she saw an intruder raiding her fridge until she realised who it was.

“I could have killed you!”

“And yet, I live,” Jaime shrugged and then reached forwards to remove the wine bottle from her hands. “I suppose there are worse ways to go,” He mused before placing it carefully on the counter. He had undressed since she put him to bed. Now he was wearing only his boxer shorts and they didn’t leave much to the imagination. He clearly worked out. Every inch of him was covered in muscle. The scars on his back were healing and there were no new welts. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. “Like what you see?” Jaime pulled out a chunk of cooked ham and began carving pieces off it with a small knife. He handed Brienne some.

“I wasn’t sure what that was,” Jaime pointed out some other mysterious substance in the fridge.

“Dried fish.”

Jaime closed the fridge door. “What’s next. Seabird?”

“It’s the wrong time of year for guga,” Brienne responded.

“What in seven hells is a guga?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “You’d know when you smell it,” She forced a smile and then moved past him to get a glass.

“So, when are we starting this special little project.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“I was thinking we should get tested.”

“Tested?”

“STD’s, you know. I’ll phone my doctor to schedule one tomorrow, just give me a heads up and I’ll avoid Cersei for a while until it’s done. Once we’ve swapped test results and you’ve peed on some sticks we can work out a diary.”

“A diary?” Brienne had no idea what he was on about. “Test results?”

“Do you want to meet here or would you rather hotels? We can do hotels, but I’ll need enough time to plan cash withdrawals to pay for it. Paper trail, remember?”

“I’m sorry. STD tests? I don’t need one of those.”

Jaime stuffed another lump of ham into his mouth. “Well, for what it’s worth, having only ever slept with one woman, I don’t much feel I need one either but I think as intelligent professionals we can both agree it’s better to err on the side of caution. It’s a formality, that’s all.”

Brienne blushed to the roots of her hair, thinking of why she didn’t need tested for sexually transmitted diseases but she wasn’t about to explain here and now, with Jaime standing in her kitchen in his boxer shorts, why she didn’t need tested. She’d get the tests done to keep him happy, it was, like he said, just a formality. “So you think you can, you know, manage?”

“Manage?” Jaime looked mildly affronted. “I know I’m a few years older than you, Tarth, but I like to think I’m not so over the hill-”

“I’m ugly, Jaime.”

Jaime stopped.

“I-I mean, maybe if we switched the lights off…”

Jaime’s eyes took on a strange quality as he looked Brienne, his eyes blinking lazily. “No,” He said slowly. “I think I’d like to see you.”

“But-”

Jaime moved to step past her and as he did so he passed to close to her she could feel his breath on her cheek, the bare skin of his chest so close to the hairs on her arm she could feel heat radiate off him. Brienne froze as his hips hovered near her thigh, a hair’s breadth from pressing into her. His hand brushed her stomach, his lips whispered past her temple, “I’ll manage.”

Brienne turned towards him as he moved away, watching Jaime back away from her out of the room. His boxer shorts were tenting slightly. Was that…?

He smirked at her and then clicked the kitchen light out as he exited the room.

Brienne poured her glass of water and went back to bed, trying not to think about the wet heat pooling between her thighs and eventually drifting off into an uneasy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave kudos or comments.

To make matters worse, Jaime cooked her breakfast the following morning, whistling happily and smirking at her as if he had spent the while night in her bed and not on the sofa with the dodgy springs in the middle that dug into your back.

Brienne blushed a lot and said little. When they’d finished their eggs and bacon and were sat slowly sipping coffee, she finally made an attempt to clear the air. “I thought if we arranged tests with our Doctors this week?”

“Sure,” Jaime nodded.

“Jaime are you sure you want to,” Brienne tilted her head meaningfully, “With me.”

“Are we really going to keep having the same conversation? Because if you’ve changed your mind, you should really just let me know.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Brienne blushed. She was going to have sex with Jaime Lannister. This was mad. “My moon’s blood is due next week.”

“Ok, so we’re talking three weeks or so. Plenty time for the tests to come back. Let me know about the hotel.” Jaime stood up and dumped his dishes in the sink.

“Where are you going?”

“Tommen has a football match,” Jaime shrugged. “Cersei will be there but there’s nothing she can do in front of the entire school. I can go to a football match without looking suspicious, can’t I?”

The fact that Jaime’s question was genuine, that he was even questioning supporting Tommen’s school activities made her heart break a little.

“Of course you can,” Brienne said softly.

Jaime grinned, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright, lover. See you at work.”

“You’re not going to do that all the time, right?” Brienne called after him.

Jaime was already skipping out her front door with a wave and a knowing smirk.

Brienne swiped his saliva from her cheek. He was going to be incorrigible.

~

It got worse the following week.

“OK,” Jaime dropped a gift basket onto her desk. “We have chocolate, more chocolate, soppy old movies, a comfort blanket-”

“What in seven hells are you doing?” Brienne shoved his gift basket back in arms.

“Supporting you?”

Bronn was sitting at a nearby desk looking from one to the other with curiosity.

“Well thank you, but I think I’ll manage just fine.”

“You seem a little tense this morning. Are you tense?”

“I’m concerned about all the extra work I’m going to have to deal with after my boss’s son rejected all my proposals for the company rebranding project which, may I point out, I slogged my guts out over.”

Jaime suddenly looked slightly uncertain. “Brienne, I’m trying to be nice.”

Brienne glared at him.

Bronn looked to Jaime, intrigued, waiting for his response. Jaime gave Bronn a cautious glance. He looked again at Brienne, at her frowning, stone-cold face. “Right,” He nodded. “I’ll just leave this here,” He dropped the gift basket just inside the door.

As soon as he was out the door, Bronn turned to Brienne. “Since when does Jaime do ‘nice’?”

“Since now, apparently.”

“Why the gift basket?”

Brienne’s mouth said the first thing that came to mind, “I caught him with Cersei.”

“Ah,” Bronn nodded knowingly. “Bribery. Well played, Tarth. Might as well milk it while you can.” Bronn got up, walked over to the gift basket and ripped it open. He went straight for the chocolate. “You two shagging as well or something?”

“You know? About Cersei?”

“Half of King’s fucking Landing knows, Tarth,” Bronn raided the gift basket, sorting through it. “Chocolate, soppy movies…I take it you’re on your monthlies, then? Got to give it to the boss, he’s not daft. You don’t mind going halves on the chocolate do you?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. Great. At this rate half of Lannister Corp. was going to know her monthly cycle. So much for Jaime’s bloody discretion. “Sure,” Brienne forced a smile that came out as more of a grimace.

~

Brienne had managed to schedule the whole nine yards worth of STD tests with her doctor before her period and got the results back a week later. It was, as she expected, a clean sheet.

She invited Jaime round to her apartment that weekend and they shared a pizza in front of bad Saturday night television and Brienne showed him the sheet.

“Great.” Jaime didn’t even look at it. He placed it straight on the coffee table and continued eating.

“Jaime? I went through a whole series of – may I say – quite humiliating tests for that sheet of paper.”

“I know,” He stared at the television screen.

“I don’t understand.”

Jaime sighed. “I put it down because it doesn’t matter what your sheet says.”

Brienne stared at him for a long moment. The penny dropped. “Yours isn’t clean, is it?”

Jaime paused, he gripped his right hand into a fist and then released it. He moved his foot, his arm. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’ll need to have some treatment before we can…pursue this.”

Brienne frowned. “But you’ve only ever been with Cersei so…oh!” For his entire life, Jaime had been devoted to his sister. He was only planning to have a child with Brienne now because he needed an heir, because he wanted to be a father and they would only be sleeping together to create a child. Jaime had never been with anyone else, ever, even when his sister had married Robert Baratheon. Now dead two years, a political stalemate still subsisted between Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister. The tragic death a few months ago of Catlyn Stark and her son, Robb, only darkened the political climate. It was what had led to Brienne seeking work at Lannister Corp. in the first place. “Have you talked to your sister?”

Jaime shook his head. “I wanted to tell you, first.”

“Thank you,” Brienne tried to catch Jaime’s eye but his head was fixed on the television. “If you need some time, you’re welcome to sleep over.”

Jaime nodded. He sat, his leg twitching for a while longer until he gave up trying to sit still and launched himself to his feet. “I’m going for a run.”

“In jeans?” Brienne glanced at his legs.

Jaime looked down at himself, at his jeans and remembered the leather shoes at the door. Right, no running kit. He could go back to his apartment, but it was in a family block and the chances were he would run into someone he didn’t want to run into, which was the whole point of him being here at Brienne’s place to start with. He didn’t know why he liked it here, but somehow he had grown to trust Brienne and she was easy company. Not the most talkative, but that wasn’t always a flaw. Jaime had grown to appreciate the comfortable silences that often fell between them.

“I have some mens clothes in my wardrobe,” Brienne nodded her head towards her bedroom. “Shorts. Jogging bottoms. T-shirts. They should be about your size, or a little bigger. Take what you need.”

Jaime hesitated, gauging if she was serious before his lips quirked into a small smile, “Thank you.”

She heard him in the bedroom getting changed. A few minutes later the door of her apartment closed. It was nearly an hour before the buzzer rang and Brienne had long ago switched off the television and put on lounge pants – men’s lounge pants because the legs were longer along with an oversized t-shirt which she had purchased from the mens 'big and tall’ section.

Jaime looked exhausted and he nearly collapsed when he came in the door. She didn’t need to tell him he had overdone it. Fortunately she had some rehydration drink for her own workouts in the fridge and after he had drunk a good portion of a bottle Brienne herded him towards the bathroom for a shower. She left a pile of her own pyjamas sitting on the toilet seat and went around the apartment switching off appliances for the night. When she got to bed Jaime was flat out, his hair still wet, sleeping under the covers on the unused side of the bed. For a moment she thought about taking the sofa but then discarded the idea. This was her bed and Jaime wasn’t someone she had to worry about taking advantage. Not after what he’d just found out.

Brienne climbed into her own side and went to sleep. She woke the following morning with Jaime’s arm around her waist, his head on her shoulder and his leg curled over hers. Something that she could only assume was his erection pressed into her hip and he snuffled and nuzzled her neck. She tried to prize herself away only to have Jaime pull her back into bed, half asleep, and insist on laying a little while longer. Five minutes later she really, really had to pee and got up to use the bathroom. She didn’t go back to bed and instead started making breakfast but when Jaime finally got up he pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate and couldn’t bring himself to consume anything more than a single cup of coffee. By the time he insisted on leaving he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. As she stood at the door watching him put on his jacket, Brienne couldn’t blame him. His life was falling apart.

“The doctor said it would take a couple of weeks for the drugs to run their course and then I’ll need retested. I imagine by the time I shake this thing we’ll miss our window. We’ll have to aim for your next cycle.”

“O-of course,” Brienne stuttered. Jaime was her colleague – although he was fast becoming the closest thing she had to a friend – but any embarrassment she might have felt discussing her cycle with him was replaced with the knowledge of the conversation he was going to have to have with his vindictive, spiteful sister. A sister he had been madly in love with for as long as Jaime could remember. “Jaime…if you need to call someone I’ll leave my phone on.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I think it’s best however, if your name on my phone doesn’t appear anywhere within a hundred miles of my Sweet Sister until this is all resolved.”

A silent look passed between them, Jaime pleading with her for her silence and at his insistence, Brienne found herself nodding in agreement as Jaime walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos on this story. It is wonderful to get such positive feedback.

The worst thing about the confrontation with Cersei was his Pavlov’s dog reaction to her. He only had to see her to want her, to lust for her. Her beautiful face, her high cheek bones and long golden hair. The remembrance of how her mouth hung open and her eyes hooded with lust as she came. His cum dripping from those lips, dripping down her thighs. He had never worn condoms with her, even with Robert’s infidelity because after losing their first born, Cersei had insisted she and Robert slept together only rarely. Robert had to have known about the children, but claimed them anyway even while mourning the black haired baby boy buried in the Baratheon family tomb. Robert carried on with his whores, Jaime carried on with Cersei. That was how it was. That was how it had always been. Now, Jaime was beginning to find himself questioning that version of events.

 

She was where he expected her to be, at home yelling at Tommen who was complaining about being late to his football match. If Jaime didn’t know better, she’d say he was drunk. Myrcella was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Cersei?”

 

“Brother. Do go kill Tyrion for me, won’t you?” Cersei flicked her hair back and a raised a wine glass in his direction.

 

“What’s he supposed to have done now?”

 

“He and father are conspiring to send Myrcella to Dorne. Did you know that?”

 

“Tommen, go outside and get into my car,” Jaime held out his car key.

 

“You’re not allowed to be alone with them. You know that.”

 

“And what exactly is it you fear so much, Sweet Sister? Tommen’s already late to his match and you’ve been drinking. Tommen, I’ll take you to your match today,” Jaime said, without looking away from Cersei.

 

Cersei slapped Jaime’s cheek. Hard. “How dare you presume to parent my children.”

 

Tommen looked at his mother, then Jaime. He snatched the car key and left with a worried glance over his shoulder.

 

Cersei spat in Jaime’s face. “How dare you!”

 

Jaime wiped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. No, Brienne’s t-shirt. He’d put her borrowed t-shirt back on after his shower that morning. He stared at the line of stitches in the hem for a moment, so neat and orderly, and thought of Brienne having her lazy sunday at her apartment in her perfectly ordered life. Going for a workout, cooking Sunday lunch for one or taking a trip out of town along the coast for the afternoon. He wondered if they would do that together when the baby came. At first it had been a joke, an off the cuff comment. When Brienne had asked him for real, the possbilities had begun to form in his mind. Sure, she was big and tall and ugly but she was also honest, quiet and hardworking. There was no subterfuge with Brienne. What you saw was what you got and her eyes were quite remarkably blue. Jaime had to admit, he had a soft spot for her eyes. She couldn’t be more different from the woman in front of him, the woman he had devoted himself to for his entire life and who, apparently, had not been nearly so devoted to him as he had imagined. “I went for routine tests at the doctor recently. It’s odd, being told you have a sexually transmitted infection when you’ve been monogamous your entire life. Care to explain?”

 

“Robert,” Cersei’s cruel smile stretched over her lips.

 

Jaime knew not to trust her when she used that expression. His face hardened. Once he’d found that smile enticing and endearing. Now he felt betrayed and angry. How dare she lie to him. “Oh, Robert. Of course. Your famous philandering husband,” Jaime nodded. “Robert has been dead for two years.”

 

Cersei shrugged casually, “An oversight. Sometimes these things take a while to show up. Thank you for alerting me. I’ll phone my Doctor tomorrow.”

 

Jaime stared at her, his eyes boring into her. He could feel anger bubbling inside him. He knew what he wanted to say, what he wanted to ask her. Who? How many? How often? He wanted to tell her, ‘I work my guts out for this family, protecting this family. I travel for work, for father, for you and Myrcella and Tommen. How many, Cersei? How many men have had you? In your bed, with the children downstairs? In the offices? How many? How long?’ Something inside, however, cautioned him not to push his sister too far right now and he forced himself to remain silent, his angry eyes burning green like wildfyre as he watched her sip her wine.

 

Cersei simply smiled her smile and raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'was there anything else?’.

 

Jaime shooks his head, “I’ll take Tommen to his match.”

 

Suddenly Cersei’s face changed, a softness appearing in her eyes. The sneering smile disappeared. “Jaime…don’t go. I need you.”

 

Jaime turned, ignoring her. Ignoring her soft and perfectly manicured fingers on his elbow and the smell of her perfume and the way her presence made his cock stir and walked out the door without looking back.

 

In the car Tommen was waiting, looking anxious and toying with the car key in his hand. He handed it over as soon as Jaime appeared and buckled up. He was a good kid, really. Jaime wished he knew his nephew better. Nephew. The word rang hollow in his mind. “I’m sorry, Tommen, your mother’s upset about Myrcella.”

 

“Is she really going to Dorne?”

 

“I don’t know, Tommen.”

 

Jaime hadn’t heard anything about it, but he’d been rather busy with other matters recently. There was a long running student exchange programme between Dorne and King’s Landing. At the football match he called Tyrion from the sidelines, who had expressed concern for their sister’s state recently and explained he had agreed to support Myrcella’s attempt to go on this year’s student exchange programme. That Myrcella was, in fact, at Tyrion’s apartment right now sorting out the details.

 

When Tommen’s football session was over, Jaime had never been more unwilling to drop Tommen off at Cersei’s. When he parked the car on the street outside the family apartment block, Jaime stopped Tommen as he got out of the car and removed a key from his key chain. “Here,” Jaime pressed it into Tommen’s hand.

 

“What’s it for?”

 

“My apartment. You can go there whenever you like, ok? You’ll need to hide it from your mother.”

 

Tommen clutched the key and nodded.

 

“Will you be ok?” Jaime glanced meaningfully at the door.

 

Tommen hesitated, hovered. He made no move to go any further towards his mother’s home. “Can I come to your apartment for a while, Uncle Jaime?” Tommen said quietly, searching Jaime’s eyes. He looked uncertain, but Jaime pulled on the parking brake and nodded. “Come on then. We’ll tell the doormen to send your sister up when she's finished at Uncle Tyrion’s.”

 

For the first time in his life, Jaime spent that evening with his two children. Myrcella and Tommen ate takeaway pizza while Jaime and Tyrion chatted and drank wine at the breakfast bar. Cersei only seemed to be permitting her children being at Jaime’s apartment at all because Tyrion was also present. Myrcella had called her mother, who had sounded drunk and had insisted to her children that they come home well in time for bed but neither seemed interested in returning to their mother while she was in her cups and Jaime knew if Cersei complained to their father that Tywin Lannister would be the first to say she shouldn’t drink so much in front of her children.

 

“Cousin Lancel,” Tyrion confided in a hushed voice under the noise of the television. “The Kettleblacks – both from what I hear. Fucking Moon Boy, for all I know.”

 

The lobby pianist? Jaime shook his head. He could feel the heat of anger and betrayal curling in his chest and tried to put the thought of Cersei with those men out of his mind.

 

“It’s not the end of the world,” Tyrion waved a hand at Jaime’s cock. You pop some pills for a couple of weeks and it goes away. I wouldn’t make a habit of it, though. It does get inconvenient, not to mention uncomfortable."

 

“Thanks,” Jaime sniped.

 

Tyrion shrugged. “Bronn says you’re trying to woo the giantess?”

 

“Brienne is key to the company rebranding project. We can’t do it without her and right now she’s rather dissatisfied. Forgive me for showing a little gratitude towards a hard working employee.”

 

Tyrion shrugged. “You never know, she might be good for you. Just keep her out of our Sweet Sister’s way.”

 

“I can’t believe it,” Jaime shook his head. “Not Cersei.” And yet the evidence was incontrovertible. The test results, the expression on her face, the glances he could now recall from select men who moved in Lannister circles. Seven Hells, did everyone know except him?

 

“You were gone on secondment for most of last year. Dear brother, did you honestly believe you and our Sweet Sister were exclusive all these years apart from Robert?”

 

Jaime gave Tyrion a hopeless look.

 

Tyrion patted Jaime on the shoulder. He was in no position to gloat over his brother’s naïvite. The last woman he slept with had betrayed him with father. All he could do was try and cheer him up. Tyrion slid off his bar stool and stalked towards the living area with intent. "Well, since you don’t seem to be drinking much with our dearest niece and nephew around, I say we invade their sofa and steal all their sweeties.”

 

Myrcella squealed in warning as she lurched forward to protect the candy while Tommen let out a giggle when Jaime launched himself over the back of the sofa in pursuit. They ate too much sugar, watched old films late into the night and had to carry both exhausted children back to their mother’s apartment with the help of the bodyguard who had appeared outside.

 

Bitterly, in spite of the joys of the night, Jaime wondered if his sister was fucking that guy  as well.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a couple of weeks before Jaime got the all clear at the doctor. At work, Jaime gave out assignments and found time to check on Brienne regularly, resulting in odd looks from both her and Bronn as they began to wonder what was wrong with him.

 

“He’s not too subtle is our Jaime,” Bronn observed one day as he had yet again asked Brienne if she had everything she needed to do the job she did every single day.

 

Brienne snorted and leaned over her desk once more.

 

Jaime came over again on Saturday evening, this time with takeaway pizza and a movie and a new supply of what he liked to call ‘pee sticks’. Brienne shoved the ovulation tests in the bathroom cabinet and focused on the more important task of eating as much pizza as she could before Jaime scoffed the lot. Somehow, he once more he ended up sleeping in her bed. Honestly, Brienne found it a little weird but Jaime insisted he was cold on the sofa and needed to snuggle.

 

“Your hands are cold!” Brienne scolded him.

 

“Exactly, wife.” Jaime pressed his cold hands against her warm skin and hissed as they warmed.

 

“Get them off me! And I am not your wife!” Brienne tried to wrestle his hands away from her body and only ended up pressing him into the mattress with her weight.

 

Jaime buried his face in her neck, “Snuggle bunny.”

 

“Call me snuggle bunny one more time and you’ll be sleeping on the stairwell, Jaime Lannister.”

 

Jaime paused, thoughtfully. “How about wench?”

 

Straddling Jaime’s back and strong-arming him into an arrest hold seemed to give him the intended message. Jaime was still rubbing the arm she had forced up his back the following morning as he left to take Tommen to football. “I think you sprained something,” Jaime grumbled. Really though, he found himself impressed by her strength. He never felt intimidated by it, if anything it was something of a turn on.

 

Brienne innocently sipped her coffee. “Oh, how unfortunate. Perhaps your poor, tarnished masculinity needs the day off work tomorrow?”

 

“Why am I having a child with you again?”

 

“Because I asked,” Brienne pointed out.

 

Jaime paused with his hand on the door handle. “You never did say, you know.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“Where you’d like to-” Jaime tilted his head meaningfully.

 

“Jaime I have absolutely no desire to slink around swanky hotels like I’m undercover. Besides, it might be a work night.”

 

“It might be a work night? You’re just romantic to the bone, Tarth, aren’t you?”

 

“I…” Brienne paused. Wasn’t that the whole point? A convenient arrangement? Brienne had no romantic illusions about why Jaime was doing this, there was no need to overly complicate matters by pretending it was something it wasn’t. Besides, Brienne wasn’t sure her heart could cope if she thought about this from any other point of view. If she got her hopes up about any sort of feeling or warmth in this situation. Such things were not meant for her, she had long ago reconciled herself with that truth. “Unless you have any objections I think my apartment is perfectly servicable.”

 

Servicable? A work night? Not that Jaime was in a position to complain but he was starting to feel like Brienne expected him to be some sort of gigolo. Still, Jaime nodded. He looked at Brienne for a long moment, wondering what he could do to woo her. He’d never heard of her dating anyone. Probably guys were just a complete jackass in her presence. He knew he had been, but that had been before. Now they were making babies and that took a certain delicacy. Jaime, at least, wanted a few fond memories of the event, rather than some perfunctory by-the-hour thing. Considering she blushed at the slightest thing, Jaime suspected buying her a bunch of roses would make her completely insensible in her horror. He smiled to himself at the thought before turning and heading out the door. He would think of something.

 

Later, as he watched Tommen waddle around the expansive pitch of grass and mud that morning, Jaime tried to settle the reality of what was about to happen. At some point in the next few days Brienne would give him a nod or a phone call and he would go over to her apartment and they would have sex. Would there be wooing? She had sort of wooed him and he couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. Her hips, those legs. Alright she wasn’t a looker but having started out as new fodder for his sharp tongue, Jaime had to admit behind all the brusque professionalism she used as a self-defense mechanism, Brienne had a heart of gold.

 

 

It was a few days later when there was a knock on the door of his office and Jaime looked up to find Brienne standing, wringing her hands. He knew at once, before she had opened her mouth, what it meant.

 

“Tonight?” He asked simply.

 

Brienne raised her chin, as if bracing herself for a punch.

 

Jaime took that for a yes and nodded, “Ok. How about I swing by around seven?”

 

Brienne was very careful to keep her features plain.

 

“I could bring some dinner,” Jaime offered.

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

“Necessary? No,” Jaime tilted his head. “Might be nice.” Brienne frowned, a frown that Jaime was becoming increasingly familiar with. He stood up and came around the desk. “I just mean, we’re colleagues. We’ll still be colleagues after. I’m not making it a date, I just think it might help ease us into things. We can be adults about this, right?”

 

Brienne looked like it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do but Jaime heard her words of agreement before she fled back to her office across the hall.

 

Jaime sighed heavily. Honestly, if she was going to be that stiff and awkward about it, Jaime wasn’t sure he could do it at all. Did that woman ever relax?

 

That night, Brienne paced her apartment, wondering again why she had decided to wear the only dress in her closet. This was a bad idea. She should change. Jaime couldn’t see her in a dress, she never wore dresses. It was ridiculous anyway, this wasn’t a date. They were here to do one thing that would probably only take a few minutes and then it would be done.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

Brienne stared at it. She stared at it so long Jaime began knocking. “Tarth, I know you’re in there.”

 

Brienne sprang the door open.

 

Jaime’s eyes widened. He didn’t think he had ever seen a dress so hideous. What had possessed her to wear it he had no idea. “That really is the worst dress I have ever seen.”

 

The door slammed in his face.

 

Jaime knocked again. “I have food!” He shouted through the door.

 

The door opened as far as the chain would allow. He eyed it. “So it’s like that is it?”

 

“I was just going to get changed.”

 

“Well don’t stop on my account,” Jaime said and then raised his hand which was carrying a carrier bag of food from a well known local restaurant. “I’m perfectly happy watching you eat this naked.”

 

The fact that Brienne actually only opened the door a second time to berate him seemed to be like water off a duck’s back to Jaime. He couldn’t help himself, it was just so easy. He practically only had to open his mouth before she blushed, her pale cream skin colouring from her breasts to her hair line, lighting up all the freckles speckled like fairy dust across her shoulders and face. As Brienne continued chastising him, Jaime made his way to her kitchen whistling a happy tune.

 

“If you don’t mind, actually, I’d really rather we just got on with it so you can go home again.”

 

“Never let it be said that romance is dead,” Jaime responded. He placed the food on the kitchen table, which seemed like the safest place for it while they settled this. “Look, Tarth the thing about boners is they have a mind of their own. They really do pop up in the most inconvenient of places – the middle of a long session of book keeping, in an important meeting, that sort of thing. Yet somehow at the opportune moment when one actually requires said boner for it’s intended purpose the darned thing has a tendency to be a little funny, if you catch my drift.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Which is rather telling, all told, because if you’d actually spent any time around anyone with a penis you would realise that said penis sometimes takes a little woo-ing. I’m not a damned machine, Brienne. I need to…ease into it.”

 

“You said that before,” Brienne frowned. “I don’t understand.”

 

Jaime looked at Brienne for a long moment and sighed. His eyes softened. “Lets just call dinner the warm up, ok?”

 

Brienne nodded awkwardly and then waved a hand at the food. “Can you get…there are plates…” She pointed at the cupboard. “I’m going to change.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's post will be a double post because of reasons.

Brienne nodded awkwardly and then waved a hand at the food. “Can you get…there are plates…” She pointed at the cupboard. “I’m going to change.”

 

“Going to slip into something?”

 

Brienne blushed.

 

Jaime stopped her with hand on her arm. He looked her up and down, her long legs, her broad shoulders that stuck out awkwardly in the ill-suited dress. His eyes dragged themselves back up to her face. “Relax, Brienne. We’ve got all evening. Put on something comfortable – put on some pyjamas, for all I care.”

 

While Brienne wandered off to her bedroom to discard – and hopefully burn – the awful dress, Jaime pottered about the kitchen. He found the plates and the cutlery and laid two places. He set out the food and the wine. He poured them each a glass of alcohol and a glass of water and was just plating up the food when Brienne returned.

 

Jaime found himself a little stunned. Dammit to seven hells but those legs really did go on forever. He swallowed hard.

 

Brienne was wearing short pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt without a bra. He could tell from the way her nipples stuck out through the fabric.

 

“Alright, that’s a little different. Why don’t you sit down?” Jaime pulled out a chair as if he was the host.

 

“It’s my kitchen,” Brienne pointed out.

 

“I’m trying to be nice,” Jaime said.

 

Brienne eyed him for a long moment and then sat down. She watched him take a seat opposite and suddenly felt self conscious. She wasn’t used to eating in front of people. Sometime she ate at her desk, or in front of the television, or even in bed. But there wasn’t much excuse to go eating at a table opposite someone else, watching them watch you eat. After a long moment they both started eating, seemingly by mutual agreement and the room was filled with quiet tension and the scraping of metal cutlery against their plates.

 

“It’s fine, you know,” Jaime said quietly.

 

“What?”

 

Jaime sensed, still, a lingering antagonism. Alright, so he’d spent most of their working lives together so far teasing her at every opportunity, but did she really need to be so difficult? “That it’s your first time.”

 

Brienne froze. “What?”

 

“I said it’s fine,” Jaime held out his hands in a placating manner. “I’m one to talk, I’ve only ever slept with my sister, but you knew that when you asked me.”

 

“You don’t know that it’s my first time,” Brienne insisted.

 

“I know that you know nothing about seducing a man. You opened the door in that horrific dress and yet when you went to put on something comfortable you waltzed back in in those tiny shorts, probably because they don’t show off the fact that all of your pyjama pants are much too short without giving a moment’s thought to how absolutely sexy those legs of yours are.”

 

“My legs have never been sexy. They’re ridiculous.” Brienne waggled a foot for good measure.

 

Jaime prised a morsel of food off his fork with his lips, “Remind me you said that when they’re wrapped around my waist later.”

 

Brienne’s eyes darkened slightly. “You wish, Lannister.”

 

“And what if I do?” Jaime smirked, imagining being balls deep inside her hot, wet cunt with those long legs wrapped around his body, pressing him into her.  “The most important thing,” Jaime continued, “Is to be relaxed.”

 

“How can you possibly be relaxed?” Brienne demanded.

 

Jaime shrugged.

 

Brienne frowned but settled into eating her meal.

 

“Tell me something you like about me,” Jaime suggested.

 

“I like it when you shut up.”

 

Jaime ignored that comment. “I presume you must like something about me. It was your idea, after all.”

 

Brienne glanced at Jaime’s chest and then blushed to the tips of her ears and refused to meet his eye.

 

Jaime chuckled warmly, “Ah, well you’re allowed to like my body, Tarth. That’s normally a good thing.”

 

“Jaime,” Brienne said quietly, “Why did you say yes?”

 

Jaime shrugged. “You’re from a noble house, you’re young and strong, you have good hips, you’re intelligent and you’ll make a good mother. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Brienne’s brow screwed up in disgust, “Did you just say I have good hips? You sound like Olenna Tyrell. And you don’t know that I’ll make a good mother.”

 

“Of course I do, you’re the most honest, upstanding person I’ve ever met. If you mother the child half so much as you mother that poor tea boy…you’ll make a great mother. I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought you’d be a bad mother.”

 

Brienne’s mind went to Cersei. She wanted to ask whether Jaime thought his sister was a good mother, but Brienne thought it better to let that question fall by the wayside for the moment and they continued eating.

 

When he was done Jaime collected his cutlery on his plate and pushed his plate away. He reached for his wine and took a long sip. “I need to pee,” Jaime announced and then stood up and headed to the bathroom.

 

Brienne stared after him and then looked around the table, strewn with empty dishes. Most of the food was gone. She piled up the plates in the sink and then, with nothing else to do to procrastinate, made her way to her bedroom. She had tidied and made up the bed with clean sheets. There were tissues by the bed and she had hidden away all of her sex toys. If they were going to do this there was no time like the present. Brienne could still hear Jaime in the bathroom, the sound of the toilet flushing, the water in the pipes as he washed his hands. Quickly Brienne stripped and slipped under the covers.

 

She was staring into space when a clearing of the throat made her look up sharply. Jaime was leaning in the doorway, shirt open and shoes off. He must have left his suit jacket in the kitchen. He looked different, somehow, without his tie and jacket. Brienne was used to seeing him in casual wear now from his Saturday night visits but now it was different. He looked different. Alright, she admitted to herself. He looked sexy.

 

“Can I come in?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post today.

“Can I come in?” 

She clutched the covers above her breasts. Somehow the fact that this would involve seeing each other naked was only just catching up with her. “You’ve been in here before,” Brienne said to him.

 

Jaime leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other leg. “Not like this,” He pointed out.

 

Brienne conceded the point. When she nodded he pushed himself off the doorway and took a small step in the direction of the empty side of the bed. “You can change your mind at any time, you know.”

 

When Brienne said nothing in response Jaime continued to step forwards until he stopped in the middle of the room. He popped the first button open on his shirt and then another.

 

Brienne clung to the top of the bedcovers as Jaime efficiently shed his clothes, now worn and crumpled from a day at work. Shirt, socks, belt, trousers and then the black trunks he was wearing underneath until he was standing there naked and walking towards her. In spite of his muscular, well kept body from daily visits to the gym, her eyes immediately went to the most male part of him as he walked towards the bed and slid under the covers.  When they stood toe to toe Jaime was slightly shorter than Brienne, but only sightly. He had to tilt his chin upwards to look at her normally but leaning against the headboard, they could meet eye to eye. Jaime laid down and stretched his legs out with a groan. “God, that feels good.”

 

Brienne eyed him suspiciously.

 

Jaime shifted towards her under the covers. Brienne huddled up under the covers, bracing her shoulders.

 

“There’s plenty of space over there.”

 

“Well, I like it over here.” Jaime slid within touching distance and watched her carefully. He shook his head. “If that’s your seduction technique it’s no wonder Renly was gay.”

 

Brienne threw back the covers and stormed out of bed, before she froze, realising it left her entirely nude and open to his gaze. He took her in, her strong stomach, her shapely hips, her breasts, modestly sized but well enough. Only her height made them look small and out of proportion. Her skin was pale, dotted all over with light freckles.

 

“Don’t mock me.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Brienne glared down at him, squaring her shoulders for a fight.

 

“I’m apologising,” Jaime said in earnest. “A truce.”

 

“You need trust to have a truce.”

 

“I trust you.”

 

That stopped Brienne in her tracks. He trusted her? Did Jaime Lannister trust anyone? Did she trust him? The thought occurred to her that no, she had never once thought to trust him, she had not contemplated that such a thing could exist between them but his eyes were earnest and genuine and when he said it like that she believed him. Jaime was staring at her with a soft, docile, trusting gaze that she had never seen before and it gave her the confidence she had previously been lacking. She relaxed slightly and slowly made her way back to bed. Jaime watched her all the time, the sway of her hips, the pale hair nestled between her legs. A natural blonde that matched the straw-yellow of her eyebrows and the pale pink of her lips and nipples.

 

Jaime felt his cock stir. He bent one knee under the covers, the better to hide it. Brienne was nervous enough as it was. Jaime had always been true to his Sweet Sister, he had never lain with anyone else in the whole course of his life and except for once or twice, he had never really had the urge to. It had surprised him how much he liked Brienne. Alright, she wasn’t a beauty, but there was something about her. Her honesty, her integrity, that drew him to her. When she came back into bed he half turned towards her, waiting for her.

 

Brienne’s nervous eyes flickered, but the tension was gone. She no longer gave off the signal that she wanted to repel every man within ten miles.

 

Something in his eyes must have brought her in for in the moments he spent lost in his head there she was, leaning over him. His hand went to her waist. She stilled, but did not move away.

 

“We can take this as slowly as you need to,” Jaime said softly. His thumb traced her skin, so warm and smooth. He wanted her to kiss him, but he had the feeling she wasn’t going to. Her hand made contact on his chest, skimmed over his nipples and down between his legs. Jaime closed his eyes and hissed. Her touch was unskilled but gentle and it was so long since he had been touch with gentleness. When was the last time he and Cersei had been gentle. Had they ever been gentle?

 

Brienne’s hand sprung back.

 

Jaime’s eyes flickered open. His pupils were wide and dark, fixed on her eyes and her mouth. His hand lifted from her waist, tracing up the muscles of her torso to her breasts. He traced the areole, musing on the way it pucked up when he touched it.

 

“In films people always just,” A blush spread over Brienne’s face and chest. “Get on with it.”

 

Jaime continued to lie propped up on his side, Brienne half looming over him. Her hand drifted back to his body as he lazily continued exploring her breast with one hand. No, she would never be a beauty, but he could stare at her eyes for a long time without getting tired.

 

He hoped the child had her eyes.

 

With his eyes still fixed on hers he stretched out his neck until his lips came into contact with her other nipple. He wet it with his lips, suckled at it, grazed it with his teeth making her gasp and then switched sides and did the same to the other until she batted his hands away when her nipples were red and oversensitive. Still staring into her eyes he pulled her on top of him until she Brienne straddled his body and slid his right hand down between them. Even barely touching her, Brienne’s eyes jolted when he tickled at the hairs guarding her folds. He waited and at length she nodded. Jaime slid his hand forwards, finding her clitoris. She was different from Cersei, she felt different, she responded differently. Where Cersei would already be dripping, ready for him to fuck her hard Brienne was only starting to get wet, but they had never done this before and they were both nervous. He took what wetness he could find and explored her with a softness of hands that Jaime had not thought himself capable of. Learning her.

 

He heard her breathing grow heavy, saw her pupils grow wide with lust and then panic as her orgasm approached.

 

“It’s alright,” Jaime whispered, “Let it happen.” His own breathing hardened driven by the sight of her response, the sensitive tip of his cock nudging the soft skin on the inside of her thigh where it peeked out of the foreskin. He wanted her, Jaime could admit that now. Wanted her riding him, wanted to hear her come. Brienne was nothing like Cersei and he was loving every moment of it. She came softly, her eyes lidded, gasping and moaning her release into his ear.

 

When she was done, her hips jerking forwards, she lowered herself towards him and Jaime gripped the base of his penis as she took him inside her. Jaime tried to moderate his breathing, to still himself. Did she know how turned on he was? His hands went to her hips as she braced herself on his chest with one hand, her fingers carding through the dark hairs there and gripping tight enough to leave just a hint of pleasurable pain.

 

Brienne’s eyes were still closed. “Sorry.”

 

Jaime let out a sigh, feeling his heart warm towards her. His hand lifted from her hip to her her cheek, nudging the soft skin with one knuckle. Jaime saw and felt her lean into his touch and, at the same time, gripped him below, testing out her muscles in a way that made him gasp. “What for?”

 

“I needed…” Another blush rose dusted her cheeks. “…You know.”

 

Jaime chuckled warmly, softly. “You going to have your wicked way with me, Tarth?” His hand curled around the back of her neck, caressing her short hair. He was enjoying this, more than he thought he would. It was…nice.

 

Brienne opened her eyes carefully.

 

Jaime’s warm, twinkling eyes met hers. “You maybe want to move any time soon?”

 

“What?”

 

Jaime raised his hips up, a small movement he repeated. “Like this,” He said softly.

 

Brienne got the hint and Jaime lay back and let her lead, let her find her way, her rhythm, test out what she liked. Soon she was clenching him, their hips moving together in a steady rhythm. Brienne’s hand went between them as she got close.

 

“Jaime?”

 

“Yeah,” He gasped, buried his face in her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her back. He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want this ever to be over but then she was coming and he followed behind her, his pleasure curling low inside him, their breath mingling as they gasped, clutching each other close as he spilled his seed inside her. Once he was done he rolled them over, gently laying her out. Slowly Brienne’s eyes blinked open. Jaime lay atop her, still joined, searching her eyes. Gently he found her again, her clit was so sensitive it took barely the slightest touch to send her spiraling into pleasure once more and this time he pulled out, his softening cock laying against her thigh as his seed spilled from her.

 

Neither spoke. There was something there that neither could explain, that neither wanted to.

 

Jaime brushed stray hairs back from her sweaty brow, not wanting to leave her embrace. “Close your eyes.” It was little more than a whisper, but as her rapid heartbeat sounded in her ears, Brienne complied. With a touch as light as a feather, Jaime leaned down and bestowed the softest of kisses upon each of her eyes and then placed a third kiss upon her brow where he came to rest his head, forehead against forehead. Brienne’s skin tingled. Her chin moved, her head tilting to nuzzle him where their skin touched.

 

“Thank you,” Jaime breathed.

 

Brienne was still too overcome to speak, still caught up in the moment. What was it that had just happened between them? Atop her Jaime shifted, laying himself down, resting his body against her, his head moving to rest on her shoulder. Unthinking her arms came around him in an embrace. He wasn’t light, but it was nice. The hard muscles of his torso resting against her own stomach where her abs disappeared into the soft pouch of her stomach.

 

Brienne held him as Jaime’s lips pressed into her shoulder, her face, the junction of her neck. She could do little more than hold him, trying to regain her breath.

 

What the hell had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lines may have been shamelessly stolen from George and Game of Thrones. We'll call it an homage to canon.


	9. Chapter 9

Brienne woke with the first light of dawn that seeped in through the pale curtains she had always meant to replace. As she came to the surface from her deep, satisfying sleep her senses returned to her. She was safe and warm. She was at home. She was naked. Warm skin pressed against her own, hair tickled her nose.

Brienne blinked her eyes open and was met with a handsome companion with golden locks and her arms were wrapped around a man – and gradually the night before came to her. Jaime Lannister. She had sex with Jaime Lannister and he was lying in her bed, sleeping like an angel. Her arm was curled around his waist and she was spooned into his back.

Brienne moved her hand and stretched her fingers where they rested against the muscular expanse of his torso.

Jaime mumbled something and pressed into her, pulling her arm tighter around himself.

There was an ache between her legs, a satisfying ache of muscles and she needed to pee.

Carefully she extracted herself from his embrace and went to the bathroom.

She sat on the toilet, having finished peeing, hardly able to believe they’d gone through with it. Were they really trying for a baby? Wasn’t this insane? Ok, it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it but this was Jaime Lannister.

She wiped, flushed and realised how much she was in need of a shower. Back in the bedroom, Jaime was coming around as Brienne wandered in, naked, looking for her dressing gown. The sensation of being watched made her pause, with her arm in the air reaching for the dressing gown on the back of the bedroom door.

Jaime was lying against the headboard, the covers pooling around his hips, smirking at her.

Brienne grabbed the dressing gown and pulled it in front of her.

Jaime smirked. “Morning?”

“Hi.”

Jaime watched her, trying to assess her, trying to assess what mood she was in. Cersei was notoriously unpredictable after sex but Jaime couldn’t help smiling. He thought of Brienne, he thought of last night, and his mind lifted. “Fancy a rematch?”

“I’m going for a shower.” Brienne turned around and walked out.

Jaime waited until he heard the shower running before following her and going for a pee.

Brienne yelped when she heard him urinate. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Peeing,” Jaime closed the lid but didn’t flush, out of deference to Brienne’s shower. He could flush in a minute.

Brienne was about to poke her head out from behind the shower curtain. He could tell the effect his proximity had on her. Her breathing changed, her eyes darkened. “Jaime…get out! What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“I am not having sex in the shower with you!” Brienne swatted him with her shower puff.

Jaime stepped closer. “You could bench press me, Tarth. You could break my arm as soon as look at me. You could throw me out arse-naked on the street and don’t think for a moment I don’t know it, so what the hell am I still doing in your shower unless you want me in here?”

They got as far as soaping each other up before they fucked hard against the tiles, Jaime pulling Brienne’s leg high over his hip, gasping their orgasms into each others ears through the sound of the water pounding against the floor.

Afterwards, as they uncoupled, Jaime couldn’t keep away from Brienne’s eyes. He watched her wash and dry and dress as he did the same for himself and neither said a word. Together they walked to the door and Brienne made a half-hearted attempt to offer breakfast.

“I’ll eat later,” He said, staring into her eyes. Even now, his hips angled towards her, wanting her. When had this happened? When had his day, revolved around her? When had seeing Brienne first thing in the morning become the highlight of his day, or giving her the best assignments and watch her knocking them out of the park become the highlight of his working life? Standing by her door, taking her in, her stupid buck teeth and her ridiculous freckles that made him want to lie in bed all day drawing patterns on her skin. He took in a breath, and braced himself. Enough, now. He leaned in and placed a single, chaste kiss on her cheek. “I hope it has your eyes.” Jaime paused, turned around, and walked away and down the stairs.

 

Brienne braced herself when she walked into the office that day. Jaime was standing by his door, pretending to read paperwork. When she stopped to enter her office door he looked up, nodded and muttered a formal, “Tarth,” in acknowledgement. She saw him wander back to his desk as she closed the door.

Brienne felt it all day, the dull ache of her muscles and wondered if Jaime did too. It wasn’t the first time she had spent with discomfort in that part of her body and she had learned in her time how to hide it. Thank goodness Bronn was off on assignment today, he could smell sex a mile off and she was sure she would hear no end of it. As it was, Brienne and the new intern, Pia, were the only ones in today. She spent the day pretending she didn’t hear Pod and Pia whispering in hushed tones over the kettle and trying to sort through her overflowing inbox. Jaime came in several times to make a drink in the small kitchen attached to the open office and offered to make her and Pia one each time. Pia asked why he didn’t just ask Pod to make him tea and Jaime’s eyes flickered to Brienne before insisting he might be a Lannister but he wasn’t completely beyond pouring hot water on a teabag.

Brienne almost felt relieved when Jaime’s office door was closed at the end of her day. She could hear Jaime’s brother, Tyrion, making some loud point about something or other that Brienne didn’t have the energy to care about. She slid out the door and went home for a hot bath and a meal and tried not the think of Jaime, of where he had sat at the kitchen table the night before, of where he had slept in the bed. She went to the toilet and tried not to think about the powerful orgasm she had experienced being fucked against the tiled shower wall.

She changed the sheets, made some dinner and had an early night. It was a formality, a necessity, that was all. He had been kinder than she had expected and – what was it people said? - A generous lover. Brienne lay awake, her hand occasionally wandering to Jaime’s side of the bed. It was one night, that was all. A few hours of her life, she rationalised. Yes, it was nice that the conception might have been such a pleasant experience.

 

A week later, there was a formal dinner at The Red Keep. A ridiculous corporate affair to dole out awards and pat people on the back for doing their job properly. Everyone had to be dressed for the occasion and as was to be expected, Jaime Lannister cut through the crowd in a dinner jacket that was so finely tailored he looked like he had been poured into the damned thing. Brienne reminded herself that what they’d had was a formal arrangement, the results of which were indeterminate. She pulled her skirt down, where it sat just above her knee on account of the length of her legs and tried to ignore the way Jaime spent most of the night watching her across the room.

Even Olenna Tyrell noticed.

When Tywin Lannister called over his son, Jaime smiled his polite smile and said something in response that was doubtless counter to what his father thought or wanted. He held his palm open, trying to make his point before Tywin Lannister walked away, the point made.

“Brother,” Jaime looked down at Tyrion Lannister, his brother and a dwarf. Tyrion was, as could only be expected, clutching a glass of wine.

“Anything interesting being discussed?”

“Not especially.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time staring at Miss Tarth this evening.”

“I was just thinking that’s the least hideous dress I’ve ever seen her in.”

“Do you think so?” Tyrion mused. “It’s true, that one almost makes her look feminine. Have you seen her in many dresses?”

“Not especially, but the last one was so ugly it seems to be seared into my mind. Do you know what she told me a few weeks ago? Brienne said if Sansa Stark made her an offer she’d go back.”

“Sansa Stark is barely out of high school and the last thing she’ll want, striking it out on her own, is to gather up her mother’s entourage.” Tyrion drained his cup and turned to go and get more wine. “Don’t fuck it up, Jaime. Father says we need her. Oh look, here comes our Sweet Sister. I think I need more wine.”

As Tyrion disappeared, Cersei sidled up to Jaime, the permanent smirk on her face that had always told Jaime she was ready to take on the world. She stood close, angling her shoulder towards his. “Hideous, isn’t it? One can barely take one’s eyes off the sight. Whatever was she thinking coming to this?”

“I expect she was invited,” Jaime responded.

“Even someone of that woman’s dull wits,” Cersei cast eyes at Brienne, “Ought to know which invitations to accept and which to decline.”

“Yes, well, the unfortunate state of House Baratheon in the wake of Robert’s death leaves her just about the most important noble in the Stormlands. Even someone of your intelligence can see that’s not to be sniffed at.”

“Careful, Jaime.”

“What are you going to do, humiliate her in public?”

“If I have to,” Cersei eyed Jamie carefully.

“I think I do quite enough of that at work for Brienne to know her place.”

Cersei’s eyes were all insinuation.

He tore his gaze away and shook his head. “You’ve gone mad. She’s the ugliest cow I’ve ever seen.”

“And yet,” Cersei pushed, “'Father says she’s important’?” She tilted her head for emphasis as she pressed her brother.

“Father says who’s important?” The voice of Tywin Lannister drew closer, imposing himself upon the conversation. As he reached his children, Tywin’s eyes settled on the subject of their gaze. “Ah, yes. Always a rather unique figure in a crowd but Jaime is correct. Now that Renly is gone and Stannis is increasingly discredited, that woman – as ugly as she is – could be rather useful. You would do well to keep her close, Son.”

Jaime made a face, entirely for Cersei’s benefit. He was an old hand at lying to his family. “Of course, father.”

Tywin nodded and stalked away.

Cersei’s head tilted towards Jaime, her eyes boring into his. Jaime schooled his features and took a small sip of wine. He knew what she wanted and Jaime wasn’t in the mood. He thought of Brienne, of her being forced to endure a lifetime of these awful gatherings, dripping with wealth and arrogance. Of her kindness and honesty and the meek way she hung her head and blushed. What bitter, twisted wreck of a human being would she morph into after a few years of Lannisters in her life? He took another sip of his wine. “Tell me more about Myrcella’s trip to Dorne.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 

The following morning, Brienne rose early. She knew many of those who had attended the work function the night before would have been drinking heavily but Brienne had never been a big drinker and half an hour in the company gym before work would set her up for the day. She was just finishing and on her way to the showers when Jaime walked in, wearing his workout gear and heading straight for the weights.

 

“Tarth.”

 

“Lannister,” Brienne’s tone was harsh. She had seen him whispering with his family the night before. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew the things they said.

 

“Am I still welcome in the gym or should I know which invitations to decline in respect of my work benefits as well as my professional attendance at work events?”

 

“Cersei shouldn’t have said that,” Jaime stepped closer and then stopped himself. Brienne looked about ready to floor him.

 

“The ugliest cow you’ve ever seen?” Brienne enquired politely. She looked straight in his eye. “I know I’m no looker, Jaime, but to say it to her?”

 

“I said it _because_ it was to her,” Jaime insisted. “Do you think this is easy for me?” He lurched towards her and then turned away towards the window. He had to be professional, to maintain a certain distance between them. “I don’t suppose you could spot for me?”

 

Brienne sighed. She gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

 

After Jaime had completed his rounds of weights to his satisfaction, Jaime offered breakfast. Brienne could have eaten, but she was still too pissed off with what had happened the night before. It wasn’t like it was her choice to be there. It was a work function and really, Brienne could have done without the fuss on a work night, the fuss of going out, the fuss of trying to get a dress that didn’t look awful after Jaime’s reaction to the last one.

 

She left to have a shower and change and decided, since she had some spare time before she officially had to be at her desk, to go out to a local cafe and have some eggs.

 

Brienne returned to the sight of Cersei’s long, golden locks slipping inside Jaime’s office door. Brienne firmly closed the door between her own office and the hallway and loudly put on the radio. Bronn gave her a significant look.

 

A knot of anxiety curled inside Brienne’s stomach. As much as Jaime annoyed the hell out of her, he struck her as someone who was oddly vulnerable. He appeared to have it all: status, wealth, family. A steady lover, children, a good job. Yet Brienne was beginning to learn there was a darker side to his life. Cersei exerted an uncommon amount of control over her brother, by Jaime’s own confession she hurt him, she prevented him from seeing their children and put bodyguards outside his door to control where he went and with whom he spent his time. He had no friends outside of work, and his work acquaintences were pretty much limited to Bronn and herself. His job relied entirely upon the goodwill of his father who had pissed off and strong-armed so many of the other businesses in Westeros that Jaime would probably never find employment if he was ever forced to leave the firm. He was isolated, vulnerable and when they were together sometimes Brienne thought she sensed his need for closeness or reassurance, as if he was thinking of seeking such things from her. If he was, he truly had to be lonely. Whenever he made his impromputu visits to her apartment he seemed to like nothing better than sitting side by side watching television in silence, or when they had been together, holding her close. From her limited experience, Brienne had surmised that he liked to be close when he had sex and especially afterwards.

 

Some time later, when Cersei had left, Bronn crossed the hallway, finding some excuse to check on Jaime and reported him to look pale, exhausted and worn out – and not in a post-coital bliss sort of way. He looked harried.

 

That night he turned up at her apartment again.

 

“When will you know?” He asked, standing on her doorstep.

 

Brienne looked him up and down. “You look like hell.”

 

“I feel like hell,” Jaime invited himself in and collapsed on her sofa. “She’s upset about me at Tommen’s weekend football matches. She says I’ve been seeing him too much.”

 

“What did she do?”

 

Jaime shook his head, refusing to answer, then ran a hand down his face. “We always did communicate through sex more than anything else. Look, I can’t stay, I’ve got a driver waiting outside.”

 

Brienne could hear the insinuation between the words. His driver was reporting back to Cersei and something had happened that he didn’t want to talk about. She wasn’t even sure Jaime could see what was going on here.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring you into all this. Sometimes coming here is the only time lately when I’ve felt anything that actually feels…normal.”

 

Brienne walked over to the sofa and tried to avoid his eyes. She knew Jaime had had sex today, and it should bother her but she was surprised to find jealousy was not what rose within her. Jaime was being backed into a corner and she worried for him. Simply as a human being, she worried. Brienne took in a deep breath and told herself to focus. “We’ll need to wait and see if my moon’s blood arrives. If not, I’ll do a test.”

 

“Ok,” Jaime nodded. “About today, I didn’t mean to create awkwardness between us.”

 

“I knew you were sleeping with your sister when we entered this agreement, Jaime. There is no awkwardness.”

 

“For what it’s worth, she told me she’s had treatment,” Jaime tilted his head meaningfully.

 

To Brienne it was strange to think he considered it important that she was privvy to such information, but she appreciated the gesture and if Jaime chose to share his confidences with her, Brienne would keep her peace. “Thank you,” She said finally, little more than a whisper.

 

Jaime, after a moment, made to drag himself from the sofa. He winced as he rose, with a slight hiss.

 

Brienne scowled. “Jaime?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

Brienne took a step towards him, a hand reached out to help him up but he ignored it. “Please, don’t,” Jaime shook his head.

 

“Does your father know?”

 

“Father won’t even acknowledge we’re fucking,” Jaime ground out. “And Seven save me, Brienne, I love that woman but sometimes…” His words trailed off with a shake of the head. He looked so stunning, with his perfect hair and perfect face that her heart clenched. Yet she couldn’t get away from the weariness of his eyes and the way his shoulders dropped.

 

“Wait here,” Brienne left the office and returned a few minutes later with an empty cardboard folder. She fetched a pen from the kitchen and scrawled on it. Brienne told him as she handed over the empty folder with ‘Lannister Corp’ and a project number scrawled on the front.

 

Jaime took the folder and looked at it. Brienne had scrawled down:

 

Lannister Corp.

Graphics Dept.

Project No. 21225

 

“Project 21225?”

 

Brienne shrugged. “Whilst I realise I’m probably not the brains of this outfit, a company rebranding that is already in process and due to be rolled out in the next six months is hardly going to tide us over to the full term of a nine month pregnancy, Jaime, even assuming it worked.”

 

Jaime stared at the folder and then nodded. “Ok, so you’ll update me on _Project 21225_?”

 

“As soon as I have news,” Brienne reassured him.

 

Jaime left, casting one last glance over his shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

Brienne’s expected moon’s blood did not arrive. The books had said it could take months to get pregnant, it seemed strange that it should happen so quickly but Brienne didn’t want to tempt fate and couldn’t bring herself to say anything to Jaime. She tried to ignore Jaime when he brought her hot chocolate and lurked in the doorway asking if she was ok when she was trying to work. Eventually she escaped to the gym and ran through some of her rusty fencing drills as a way to compose herself.

She had forgotten how much she missed fencing. Brienne had learned fencing in school and had been told by the teacher – and her father – she was one of the best they had seen. It was still traditional in many of the noble houses for boys to learn fencing growing up. However, as with many sports that were thought of as ‘male’ there weren’t many girls to compete against and she hadn’t sparred with anyone since moving from the Stark Design Company to Lannister Corporation.

The Lannisters, like many noble houses, had a long tradition of fencing and there was a stock of basic equipment in one of the lockers. Something about the physical exercise woke her up, as if she had been living in a daze since she had slept with Jaime. Brienne couldn’t say she felt different. Were you supposed to feel different? It was still embarrassing to think of someone else sharing her sex life, her orgasms, witnessing something so intimate that she had only ever experienced alone, but Brienne could not have asked for a better first time lover. The thing that was difficult was the peculiar feeling of connection that had lingered between them ever since. The way Jaime looked at her differently. The way he hid his eyes from her more often than he used to. He seemed different from the angry, arrogant man-child who had spent most of her first six months at Lannister Corporation tormenting her. The man firing every hurtful jibe he could think of at her.

Running through her drills, the familiar movement of her feet, her legs, her arms, her body – everything moving in synch and flowing, the familiarity of the movements she had learned in childhood and perfected over the years. At home on Tarth she sometimes wore a ceremonial sword, for special occasions. It comforted her, however, to know she knew how to use it properly if necessary. Yet running through her exercises now, every time she paused for breath the knowing certainty returned to her.

She was with child.

It was an odd thought. If she closed her eyes she could still feel Jaime, the weight of his body against hers, the heat of him. The way he moved inside her.

The following morning Brienne went out for a run before work instead of doing time in the gym and felt better for the fresh air. At least she would no longer have to ask awkward questions about Cersei. Brienne wondered if Jaime was going to keep volunteering information. She would after all, be the child’s aunt. But every time Jaime spoke of his sister, Brienne was reminded that it wasn’t Jaime for whom she felt distrust.

Brienne went about her day, trying to pretend everything was normal and that the huge weight of what was potentially happening inside her body right now was not as huge a deal as she was making it out to be. In her mind she had known that she needed to have a child, she had gone about it in a logical and pragmatic manner, she had discussed it with a man who had agreed to be the child’s father and carried through on their decision. That was entirely different from the reality – the potential reality – of pregnancy.

Brienne deciding to use her computer to work on inputting some designs she had originally worked out by hand. Over the course of the morning she came to the conclusion that this wasn’t something that was going to resolve itself overnight. It would be better to try and fall back into her regular routine, as much as she could. If she was with child it wasn’t going away overnight. She could wait a few days and then do a test. It wouldn’t be the first time her moon’s blood was late, Brienne had known it to vary by up to a week and while Jaime had, for some reason, started using her as a confidante, Brienne was not quite ready to be so open with him in return. If he was to be the father of her child, if he wanted to be involved, Brienne could hardly fault him for his openness and there was no doubt he was in need of company he wasn’t related to, but Brienne decided she would bide her time and assess the situation further before taking any next steps.

Brienne made a special effort to redouble her focus on her work. Over the next few days she came to work early each morning, she worked out in the gym making sure to find time each day to practice the fencing drills she found so comforting. The familiarity of the rhythm, the endorphin high, the relaxed feeling in her muscles afterwards were all things she could appreciate. The physical exercise got the blood flowing to her brain and she sat down to work away on the projects Jaime brought to her and even on one occasion, a project directly from Tywin Lannister himself.

Brienne could not work out why the CEO of Lannister Corp. would make personal visit to her office, unless it was to reinforce the importance of her connection to the company. Brienne had never thought herself important, only a female heir of a minor house. Yet, she could not deny the truth in what she had overheard Tywin mention that evening at the work social. The power of the Baratheons was diminshing in the Stormlands, and there were few other houses who held the respect and loyalty of so much of the Stormlands apart from House Tarth. If they were looking for a new Warden in the event that Stannis Baratheon fell from power there would be little competition, especially if House Lannister chose to back Tarth. The strength that the Lannister wealth brought, along with the integrety of House Tarth, would be a strong combination if Tywin Lannister chose to give Brienne his backing. Whether Brienne herself would have any say herself in the matter seemed as yet to be determined and it was not something to which Brienne was inclined to spend long hours of thought.

Still, it was no wonder Jaime was worried about Cersei. The woman struck her as power hungry. Brienne knew the type, had always known the type. Even as the daughter of Selwyn Tarth, she had been unfortunate enough to encounter many daughters of noble houses who were only too willing to climb over other people to get to the top, to step and trod on them and bring them down for their own benefit. Especially other women. If someone as beautiful and high born as Cersei could have so little sway over her own position and see her own children’s position diminished, if Tywin Lannister would even think about choosing someone like Brienne Tarth over his own Grandchildren, she could understand why Cersei would see that as a threat. Perhaps Jaime was right to be wary.

It did not make Brienne inclined to share the news with Jaime that she would need to take a pregnancy test imminently.

In his office, Jaime looked over the latest work Brienne had turned in. It was a personal request from his father, who seemed to be making a special effort lately to make Brienne feel welcome. Jaime knew what his father was doing. He was planning a manouevre against Stannis Baratheon and he needed Brienne as the heir of House Tarth to fill the power vacuum. All the better that she worked for him and had status in the company as one of their foremost graphic designers, with a direct line to Jaime. Meanwhile, Cersei had become increasingly bitter and angry at Jaime of late. Jaime could only hope it would pass, but Tywin’s behaviour towards Brienne was not helping the situation. Cersei was feeling sidelined and her own children held the name Baratheon. Cersei would get no benefit from the toppling of House Baratheon or a strengthening of House Tarth and the one resource Cersei did appear to have was the power her beauty held over men. If someone like Brienne, so plain in looks with her unsightly freckles and buck teeth could gain higher status than Cersei there was no doubt that Cersei would feel threatened.

When another week had passed with no change, Brienne found herself procrastinating, finding little things to do to avoid telling Jaime. He had not turned up at her flat that weekend and even though Jaime had no reason to be there, Brienne found that she missed the company. Even annoying company.

The next day back at work, Brienne kept finding reasons to put off visiting Jaime’s office until it was time to go home and she stopped, jacket in hand, caught outside his open office door as Jaime looked up from his desk. His face was expressionless, but there was a warmth when he looked at her now, a softness in his eyes that had not been there previously. Entirely different from the cold, sneering expression he had scorned her with when she first moved into the office across the hall.

“Tarth?”

“Jaime. I have some news on Project 21225,” She bit her lip nervously.


	12. Chapter 12

“I see,” Jaime nodded, trying to keep his features calm. “Well if you’re already on your way home why don’t I swing by your place later with the file?” Jaime stood up and began gathering things from his desk. “Just let me know if there’s anything you feel you might need.”

Brienne would have said the subterfuge was ridiculous, if she had not known Cersei Lannister quite as well as she did. Even here, you never knew who might be listening. The walls were pretty thin.

Brienne left and rode the bus home, thinking nervously all the while of what was due to happen. She went past her stop, continued on to a chemist and purchased a pregnancy test which she slid into the overly large handbag that was handy for carrying things between home and the office. The walk home took ten minutes longer than it would have from the usual bus stop, and Brienne felt her stomach fluttering all the way. She shouldn’t be anticipating it quite as much as she was.

Her key was hardly out of the door when her phone rang and it was Jaime.

“Talk to me about the project.”

“What?”

“I’m in the town car on my way over.”

He was with his driver, probably looking for cover in case the man was still reporting back to Cersei. She looked around, floundering for something to say and her eyes caught on a business card with the Lannister Corp. logo that was sitting on the table by her front door.

“The rebranding?”

“Right, the rebranding,” Jaime looked out the window. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the driver glance in the rear view mirror. Something about his manner told Jaime he was listening in to every word.

“Alright, so we keep the red. I’m on my way over, can you sketch out a couple of ideas?”

The driver pulled up to a stop in front of Brienne’s apartment. Jaime got out of the car with his phone still plastered to his ear. She buzzed him in straight away and he jogged up the stairs two at a time, the empty project folder under his arm. When he got to her apartment, the door was already open.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know. I could have been anyone.”

“And I could take you down in a heartbeat, Lannister,” Brienne retorted. “Didn’t you say so yourself?”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. “You always know how to stroke my ego, Brienne. So, what’s the news?”

“I’m late. My moon’s blood is late.”

Jaime frowned, “I thought you had your moon’s blood last week.”

“I may have allowed you to make some assumptions,” Brienne said carefully, “And failed to correct them.”

Jaime’s eyes darkened at the subterfuge and then widened comically when he realised the implications. “You mean…?”

Brienne blushed from her decoletage to the roots of her hair. “Maybe? I got a test on the way home.”

“More peeing on sticks. Being a woman is just full of fun, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it,” Brienne muttered. “Why don’t you take your jacket off and boil the kettle. I’ll be in the bathroom.”

Jaime did as he was told, he hung up his warm cashmere overcoat in the hallway and his suit jacket on the kitchen chair. He wandered into the living room and put the television on, he opened the fridge and found some cooked meat to snack on – what was with Brienne and dried meat? He boiled the kettle and then, finding nothing else to do, paced outside the bathroom.

After his fifth pass of the doorway Brienne wrenched the door open. “Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“Pacing, Jaime.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I can. Are you calm? How in the Seven are you calm?”

“What in the Seven Kingdoms makes you think I am calm?” Brienne eyeballed Jaime and then closed her eyes and counted to seven, reminding herself it wouldn’t be good for the baby to get too wound up.

“Well at least tell me!”

“Tell you what?!”

Jaime raised his hands. “Have you peed on the stick?”

Brienne gritted her teeth and let out a long, slow breath and then rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And it takes a few minutes,” Brienne told him.

Jaime pushed his way into the bathroom and caught sight of the white plastic stick sitting on the toilet cistern. He picked it up, carried it to the living room and put it down on the coffee table.

“Jaime!” Brienne followed behind. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” He said, sitting down and staring at it.

Brienne chose to hover nervously in the background.

“You’re making me nervous,” Jaime told her.

“I’m making you nervous?” Brienne snarked back. She gritted her teeth and crossed her arms. There had been none of the expected nausea, none of the sickness or other symptoms that the information she had read had led her to expect, but then the books did say that not everyone got all of the symptoms.

A puff of breath from Jaime caught her by surprise.

Brienne leaned over his shoulder.

Positive.

~

They stood, facing each other. Brienne wondered if Jaime was remembering the same thing she was: the night of it’s conception. The warmth of his arms, the gentleness with which he moved, the depths of his eyes after. Jaime’s expression spoke of gratitude and a reverence, of sorts, that confused her.

“Let me make you dinner,” He said softly.

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to have dinner with the mother of my child,” Jaime replied simply. “I’ll cook.”

“You can cook?”

“I can do a few basics,” Jaime shrugged.

In the end he grilled some meat, with some herbs and spices in her cupboard. He boiled some potatoes and cooked some vegetables. It was simple but tasty. Brienne allowed herself to be quietly impressed and ignored the smug-as-shit smirk on Jaime’s face.

“Alright, you knocked me up. You can stop smiling like a simpleton, Lannister.”

“That’s Baby-Daddy Lannister to you, Tarth.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. He looked good tonight, his tie loose and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Relaxed. He was never this relaxed at work. Jaime laid back against the basic kitchen chair – much less classy than the sort of furniture he was probably used to.

“How big do you think it is?” Jaime swirled his grape juice around his glass. They were sticking to non-alcoholic drinks and Jaime realised that with no family, Brienne might very well have little idea about diets and pregnancy. He hoped she had done some reading.

“What? The baby?”

“Mmm,” Jaime hummed in agreement and took a long sip from his glass.

Brienne watched his lips curl around the glass, the glide of his tongue across his lips afterwards. She changed the subject to distract herself, “I don’t know. When does Myrcella leave?”

“Next week.”

“You’ll miss her,” Brienne said.

“She’s not mine to miss, Tarth.”

“Bullshit!”

“Excuse me?”

“Horse shit, then?” Brienne corrected, tongue-in-cheek. “She’s your daughter, Jaime.”

“If I called her my daughter she’d be stoned in the street,” He turned his glass in his hand, staring down at it’s contents instead of into Brienne’s eyes. “I’ve never held her, never even been alone with her. She isn’t mine to miss.”

Brienne’s silence spoke volumes. It moved Jaime, made him face truths he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with. He yearned to acknowledge his children, to be a father to them, to love them and hold them and cherish them as his own. To ask about their day, to help with their school work, to attend parent evenings and have arguments with Cersei about bed times and what they ate and micromanaging their after-school interests instead of keeping them both at arms length.

“You’re allowed to love them,” Brienne said quietly, “And you don’t have to tell anyone, to love them. But you can allow yourself that. Sometimes allowing yourself to love is all you have.”

Jaime’s expression changed, his head tilted. Brienne didn’t want to discuss Renly. It was still a painful ache in her heart. She would probably never know the love of a man, she knew that. She had long stopped expecting any feelings she ever felt to be reciprocated. Brienne felt Jaime’s presence behind her, felt his hand on her waist. She wasn’t expecting to be drawn into a hug.

“Renly?” He asked, a muffled question into her shoulder. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

Brienne couldn’t answer the question, but every muscle in her body froze up. Jaime’s hand wandered over her back and then he pulled back.

“I don’t blame him, and I don’t blame you. We can’t always help who we love.”

Brienne found Jaime searching her eyes, as if trying to communicate something. He wanted her to know; wanted to know if she understood. Brienne found herself relaxing, she let out a slow breath and then pulled back and met his eye.

Jaime nodded and turned away to run water into the sink. They washed the dishes in almost silence and then he picked up his suit jacket to go. At the door he kissed her softly on the cheek and touched her elbow, pausing for a moment before leaving. Without a word.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

It would be eaiser if Brienne could stop imagining them having sex every time she went to bed. Stop remembering the way Jaime’s arm had felt around her. Stop remembering the look in his eyes as she rode him, or the way his pupils got darker when she came. Or the hungry expression he wore when he invaded her shower.

 

After a few days adjusting to the news, she awoke in the morning one day determined to refocus. The night of the conception was a happy memory, a pleasant memory, Brienne told herself. She could accept that now. It was something to cherish as she moved forward with the course she had set – like setting the sails and picking a course in the ships she had learned to sail around the islands of Tarth. That morning instead of making her way to the gym, Brienne made an appointment to see her family doctor and got the confirmation she was expecting and a referral to the local maternity outpatient unit.

 

On her lunch break instead of eating at her desk, she made a point to go outside and walk in the fresh air. She bought a book about pregnancy from a local book shop and read it in the evenings with her feet propped up on the coffee table that Jamie had desecrated and failed to clean afterwards. Thank the Seven for the modern wonders of cleaning.

 

The symptoms of pregnancy, for reasons Brienne could not understand, were relatively light for her. There was a little nausea in the morning, but nothing out of the way. She felt more tired than usual, but tried to maintain her exercise schedule with regular visits to the gym, fencing practice or a jog along the shore and the refreshing embrace of fresh air. Following the advice of her doctor and the book, Brienne made a point of what to eat. She bought vitamin supplements to take at breakfast, she drank smoothies and cut out alcohol. The loss of some seafood in her diet was something Brienne would miss, not to mention the effect that the lack of caffeine was having. After a while, doubtless, she would hardly notice the lack of a morning pick-me-up. As it was, her legs felt like lead and she often felt like taking an afternoon nap, between the tiredness she had been told to expect and the lack of any sort of mid-day caffeine to keep her going.

 

Jaime, meanwhile, was being professional. Absurdly, over the top professional. At least twice a day he came to talk to her about work projects while Bronn ignored them and made faces at his drawing board. As soon as Jaime was out the door Bronn would start doing imitations of Jaime’s concerned face and mild-mannered enquiries into her work.

 

“Did you fuck him yet?” Bronn asked one morning after Jaime poked his head in the door, nodded at her and then retreated to his own office.

 

“Shut up, Bronn.”

 

“I’ve got to give it to you, Wench, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

 

“Seen him like what?”

 

“Jaime’s never cared a jot about anyone but his sister in his life. Yet here he is, checking on you, moping around you, bringing you presents.”

 

“That was one time,” Brienne muttered.

 

“Do you know when the last time was he asked after Lollys? Two months. She’s seven months along now, thanks for asking. Sex is bloody amazing.”

 

Brienne never quite knew what to say when Bronn brought up his wife. She had been gang raped in the midst of a riot months ago and left for dead. When a high born woman was with child and suddenly in need of a husband, Bronn stepped up and offered to marry her. It was an advantageous match for him and Tywin had arranged it all. The whole idea of their marriage unsettled her, an arranged marriage in this day and age. The very idea that someone as friendly and practical as Bronn would agree to marry a woman he had never met and may not even particularly like still confounded her. Yet he had never spoken unkindly of Lollys and the woman seemed rather taken with her new husband, even if he was a notorious womaniser.

 

“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

 

“I…no!” Brienne protested.

 

“Nothing to be ashamed about. I like being married. I like sex. When you grow up where I grow up, one babe’s the same as the next when they’re cold and hungry.” Bronn shrugged. “I’m looking forward to being a father. Never had a father myself, would have taken any bloke who came along and taught me to fist fight. Brought me food. Showed a bit of interest, you know?”

 

Brienne leaned over and perused the drawing on Bronn’s desk. It was a cradle. Not a work piece, this was for himself.

 

“I know a few carpenters down in Flea Bottom. Thought I might throw a bit of work their way,” Bronn mused. “Do you think burnt umber or turquoise?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“For the nursery,” Bronn waved a hand at the drawing of the cradle on his desk.

 

“Why don’t you ask your wife.”

 

“My wife isn’t here. And you’re a woman.”

 

“How very observant of you, Bronn.” Brienne rose from her chair.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To pee, Bronn. Sadly nature requires me to take my leave of you. I bid you good day.”

 

“Tarth…hang on, Tarth! What about the décor?”

 

In his office, Jaime laughed to himself at Bronn’s antics. Anyone who had stepped inside Brienne’s apartments would know that Brienne cared little for interior decorating. Perhaps all her creative energy was expired at work. Her professional creativity was always focused on the practical, it was sparse and minimalist and modern. When she came into his office later that day, Brienne handed him a file of completed work for Lannister Finance and reminded him quietly that he should ask after Lollys.

 

“Lollys? You’re standing there,” Jaime lowered his voice, “bearing my child, and you tell me I should ask after Lollys?”

 

Brienne stood tall. “Jaime, your concern is touching but I would inform you if there was anything amiss. I sleep, I eat, I work, I rest. I exercise and have followed my doctor’s advice in excluding certain things from my diet that might harm the child. After the twelve week scan I will inform the HR department and you may choose to tell or not tell who you wish.”

 

Jaime frowned, “Why wait so long?”

 

Brienne forced herself not to put her hand on her stomach. Such actions seemed to come naturally to her, but she was trying to ensure she did not give the game away. “It is during the first three months when the pregnancy is most likely to be lost,” Brienne whispered. The thought was abhorrant to her, but it must be bourne.

 

“Then I will pray to the Seven every day for your health and happiness.”

 

Confusion crossed Brienne’s plain features. “You have told me often you are not a man of the faith.”

 

“And yet, I will pray,” Jaime shrugged. He looked down at his desk and rearranged his paperwork. “I could use a break from staring at papers. I don’t suppose you feel like a trip to the gym?”

 

“As it happens, I have not yet had my fencing practice today.”

 

Jaime’s eyes lit up. “You fence?”

 

Half an hour later, each dressed in the fencing gear from the equipment room, they sparred. Jaime was careful to keep any hits to the top of the torso. Brienne played the advantage and very nearly beat him. She knew from Jaime’s reactions that he had not expected her to be so fast, or so good. After they had exhausted themselves, they tore off their masks and sat side by side, panting and sweating. Brienne could not help remembering another time they were side by side in such a state and blushed to the roots of her pale hair. A mere glance at Jaime’s eager face told her the same thoughts were passing through his mind.

 

Jaime's heart was not so light a few days later when Myrcella was standing on the quayside, her things being loaded into the ship that would take her to Dorne. The waterside was lined with the families of those leaving, but none garnered so much attention as the young blonde, the picture of her mother, Cersei Lannister-Baratheon. She hugged each of her family in turn and Tommen seemed nearly in tears. Only the presence of his grandfather, the fearsome Tywin Lannister, seemed to stir in him the strength to hold back his tears. At the end of the line, Jaime looked upon the girl he had never called his own and was surprised when, like with Tyrion before him, Myrcella seemed to summon the courage to disobey her mother’s wishes and pulled her Uncle Jaime in for a hug.

 

Jaime closed his eyes and held her, for as long as he dared.  Myrcella buried her face in his chest and then leaned up on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. Jaime turned his ear towards her lips.

 

“Bye, Dad,” She whispered quietly.

 

Myrcella pulled back and looked him in the eye.

 

Jaime stared, astonished. Tears sprang into his eyes.

 

“Uncle Jaime?” Myrcella questioned loudly. It was for the benefit of everyone around them, but her eyes said something different.

 

Jaime blinked and stared at his daughter. He cleared his throat and then nodded. “I’ll miss you too, Myrcella.” He reached out to her and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. It was all too brief, but all the more precious for it. Aware of all the eyes around him, Jaime used many years of practice to school his features into a neutral expression and shifted into the formal manners he had been taught as a boy, moving forwards to help Myrcella with her luggage. Before long Myrcella and the rest of the small party of exchange students were loaded onto the boat. Myrcella watched all the way out of the harbour and out of sight. Those looking back from the quayside would have said she was looking at her mother. Jaime, feeling Cersei’s presence beside him, knew different.

 

Then it hit him. Myrcella knew. Myrcella accepted him.

 

“I will never forgive Tyrion this,” Cersei ground out through gritted teeth.

 

Jaime sighed heavily. “How many times must I refuse to kill him? It will be good for her. She will see Dorne, meet new people, make new alliances.”

 

“Indeed.” It was the distinctive, cutting voice of their father, Tywin Lannister. “Jaime sees the sense in it, like Tyrion and Myrcella. You should be proud to have a daughter who is so keen on setting out and doing well by the Lannister name instead of coddling her like a child.”

 

“She is a child,” Cersei snapped at her father.

 

“She is thirteen,” Tywin said. His tone of voice could not be mistaken for anything other than a correction. “Come now, it is done. Time for dinner.”


	14. Chapter 14

Jaime suffered through the entire family meal thinking of Brienne. He still lusted for Cersei but the last time they had been together had not been as satisfying as their previous unions. It was like eating food that looked delicious and turned to ashes in your mouth. Jaime could not deny he still lusted for her, he still wanted her, but he found himself wondering at every thing if she did that for the others. The way she moved, the way she cried out, the way she came that had only ever been for him. Did she come with Osmund Kettleblack like that? Why did her cries sound more like a porn act and less like an act of love?

 

He was lost in thought when Tywin started talking about marriage. “Have you met any interesting women lately, Jaime?”

 

The question broke into his thoughts.

 

“They need not even be interesting. Of good sexual morals, reasonable breeding and available would do and even the availability we need not be too fussy on.”

 

“You know I have always been married to my work, father,” Jaime reminded his formiddable Sire.

 

Tywin nodded, “And such dedication is admirable but you are not getting any younger.”

 

Brienne sprang into his mind. Her pale straw-like hair, her freckled skin that burned at the slightest hint of sun. Jaime recalled one day not long after Brienne had come to work at Lannister Corp. where she had gone out into the local park to eat her sandwich on her lunch break and had been halfway to lobster coloured on returning. Jaime had thought she was blushing when he spied her pass his office, but she had been such a shade of red already that it was rather difficult to tell. Brienne. Brienne and her ridiculously long legs and the little gasps she made when she took him inside her.

 

“No, father,” Jaime swallowed. Not now. Now was not the time, sitting next to Cersei. Cersei with her golden hair and beautiful features, her perfect hips that he had clenched so often in his fingers.

 

Did her other men clutch her hips like that? Did she like them taking her from behind?

 

Jaime threw his chair back from the table.

 

Tywin paused mid-chew. Even Tyrion looked up.

 

“I need some air,” Jaime announced and them walked out. He headed straight to the Lannister Corp. gym and put on his fencing gear. Running through a series of drills before his old friend Addam arrived. Addam’s father was a long-time friend of Jaime’s own father and the two sons had been at school together. Addam agreed to spar with Jaime but Jaime was rash and distracted. All he could think of was Brienne, and their little baby. All six cells of it, or whatever size it was at the moment. Was it a bean sized? Was it bigger than a bean?

 

Jaime abruptly stopped and Addam got the point with a direct hit.

 

“Jaime?” Addam questioned, “Are you alright?”

 

Jaime turned the various options over in his mind. Say yes, and lie. Say no, and tell the truth – far too much truth for him to feel comfortable sharing with even his oldest friend. “Father wants me to marry,” He said at length. It was a true statement and yet revealed nothing of the turmoil within. Brienne’s pregnancy, the peculiar lightness in his heart when he thought of her, the bitter twisted anger and lust and hatred when he thought of Cersei. He wanted to cry out, he wanted to shout and scream, he wanted to throw himself into a rage and destroy everything in the room but Jaime Lannister had not been raised like that. He pushed it down, all of the emotion, all of the anger. He stilled himself and squeezed it into a tight ball and pushed it down inside himself until he could pretend everything was perfectly fine.

 

“I’m sorry, Addam. I’m just tired. Perhaps we should leave it there for tonight?”

 

Addam’s face was worried but he accepted Jaime’s proposition and helped to put the equipment away. Jaime was speeding away in his car as soon as he could politely excuse himself and drove on autopilot, finding himself outside Brienne’s apartment.

 

One look at Jaime’s face through the keyhole and Brienne opened the door.

 

 

Some time later, Jaime lay awake watching Brienne’s old and temperamental television. Brienne had put her spare bedding out on the sofa and told him firmly he was sleeping here and not to disturb her. Then she shut her bedroom door and went to bed.

 

The sofa – the world’s most uncomfortable sofa in Jaime’s opinion – was only marginally less inviting than the floor as a place to sleep. As a place to sit and watch mindless television it was as good as any other. He looked around at the familiar apartment and wondered where Brienne would put the cot. Would she put the bassinet in her bedroom? Where would Jaime sleep when he stayed over? He may as well sleep in the double bed with her. They had slept side by side often enough by now to be used to each other’s presence.

 

The closed bedroom door stared at him.

 

Jaime ignored it and looked around for something to occupy himself. There was a book on the coffee table – which he hoped Brienne had disinfected since the last time Jaime was here – and he picked it up and read the title. Words had never been his strong suit and he confessed that at times he had Pod or Pia come in and read aloud his correspondence when the letters on the page were being particularly uncooperative. With this, however, he smiled when he read front cover which offered all the advice a new mother would need on pregnancy and childbirth.

 

Jaime wanted to know everything he could about Nibbins. Every month-old bean should have a name, right? When he opened the bedroom door to check on her, Brienne was asleep so Jaime could safely steal some of her pyjamas before sneaking back to lay himself out on the sofa. He tried not to think of the way Brienne was asleep on her front and snoring quietly.

 

Jaime wondered if the baby would snore. Did babies snore? He decided he could look it up. With a small smile playing over his features, Jaime propped himself up on a pillow and settled into reading, plodding on through the book with determination when the words were tricksy.

 

Brienne woke some hours after she went to bed, needing to go to the toilet. Before she had even opened her eyes, the pressure on her bladder told her she need to get up and go to the bathroom now. On the way back from the bathroom she peered into the living room to check on Jaime and sighed at the sight of him and noticed the book lying open on the floor. Jaime with his perfect hair and his perfect stubble and his Gods-damned perfect fucking torso. Jaime with his peaceful, placid expression, all calmness in sleep. She crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. What was he reading that stupid book anyway for? It wasn’t like he was going through nine months of pregnancy ending in a painful childbirth.

 

Jaime was still reading the stupid book when she awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs and toast. The book in one hand, the spatula in the other.

 

“Did you know,” Jaime spoke as Brienne entered the room. “That Nibbins has now progressed from being a Zygote to an Embryo.”

 

Jaime looked up from his book in hopeful expectation of Brienne feeling as positive and cheerful as he did after a night’s solid sleep.

 

“Why is it last night you looked like hell, you come into my house, sleep on my sofa, steal my clothes-”

 

“Borrowed,” Jaime corrected, “And I’d just like to say, it’s a double bed in your room. There’s space for two!” Jaime insisted.

 

“It’s my bed! And you weren’t invited.”

 

“Have you ever tried sleeping on that sofa?!”

 

Brienne glared at him. Jaime had some boundary issues, as far as she was concerned, but he had looked like a wreck when he appeared last night and for some reason she could not understand, he had started gravitating towards her when he needed a friend. He was welcome to her sofa but he was not going to start sleeping in her bed on a regular basis. Brienne already had enough trouble being around him and trying not to think of their sexual encounters, the way Jaime had invaded her shower like she was the sexiest woman in the world and he couldn’t get enough.

 

Brienne fought the rising blush at the way her thoughts had gone. She had talked to herself about this, about how it was time to stop thinking about it. Jaime was annoying, but harmless. He was smart, athletic, handsome, from a good family and just interested in being a father. That was all. “How are you so bloody cheerful this morning anyway?” She groused.

 

“Life, Tarth. I am high on life. Tell me, is the nausea bad?”

 

“Some days are better than others,” Brienne grudgingly admitted. “Mostly I’m just tired.“ She paused, "Jaime, not that it’s any of my business, but did something happen last night?”

 

“Interesting that you should ask. Tarth, just out of curiosity, how is it you’re the only woman in Westeros who doesn’t want to marry me? It’s ironic, really, because my father is ready to marry me off to the first woman of noble blood who comes within a hundred fathoms of Lannister Corp.”

 

“I’m fair sure there are a good number of women of noble blood within a hundred fathoms of Lannister Corp., Jaime.” Brienne yawned and sat down.

 

Jaime placed orange juice in front of her along with a glass of water. "Notwithstanding yourself, you mean?” Jaime asked mildly. “Toast?”

 

Brienne nodded carefully and watched as she was presented with two slices of toast, along with butter, jam and marmalade. Jaime hovered. “Thank you, Jaime,” She said pointedly and he went and plated up their eggs and bacon and laid a platter of steaming hot fried food in the centre of the small kitchen table. Then he brought over the coffee for himself and a pot of decaffinated tea for Brienne, her new hot drink of choice that had been sitting by her kitchen kettle. Nothing of the sort had appeared at work yet, but Jaime knew Brienne was trying to keep a low profile. There were many people from the other offices on the same floor who meandered in and out of the kitchenette at the back of Brienne and Bronn’s office and the eating habits of pregnant women were something of legend. That brought Jaime back to the topic that had brought him to Brienne’s door last night in the first place. “I had to endure a family dinner last night,” Jaime explained at last. “I couldn’t stand it, I walked out.”

 

Brienne’s jaw dropped. “You walked out on Tywin Lannister?”

 

Jaime shrugged. “He’ll get over it.”

 

Brienne didn’t know what to say to that, so she chose not to say anything at all. She felt Jaime’s pain, she understood the difficult position he was in because she had been in it herself. “Does he know, about Myrcella and Tommen?”

 

“He’s always refused to accept any thought of Cersei and I together, in spite of some quite irrefutable evidence to the contrary,” Jaime looked at Brienne only out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Would it help to tell him about…us?”

 

Jaime went silent. He did that thing he often did of turning a thought over in his mind before he spoke. “I don’t know,” He said finally.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Would it help to tell him about…us?”

Jaime went silent. He did that thing he often did of turning a thought over in his mind before he spoke. “I don’t know,” He said finally.

They left the matter at that. Somehow, in spite of the lingering awkwardness from the remembered intimacy of their night together, Brienne noticed she and Jaime had managed to fall into something of a routine. They had learned through long hours in the office together, how to move around each other. They tidied up from breakfast, they put on workout clothes and packed bags of work clothes to change into after their morning work out. They worked out together in the gym before heading up to the office. Brienne would have considered it peculiar to develop a sort-of-friendship with any other man, but Jaime seemed unperturbed by her ungainly gait, her height, her teeth or her awkwardness. He seemed to like doing whatever she was doing, which invariably she did without talking whether it was preparing food, exercising or going about her work. Jaime just liked having something to do. Every mention of his family led Brienne to believe that there was barely anything he could do in their presence without being criticised by one or other of them in some way. Brienne by contrast liked the silence of being alone and found Jaime least annoying when he quietly went about doing whatever she was doing without a fuss.

 

As it turned out, behind all that asshole bravado was a man of quiet introspection, a man hidden from all of them. From his sister, from his father. Tyrion was kinder and seemed to care for his older brother but Cersei’s closeness to Jaime put Tyrion off providing much support for his brother. Brienne was surprised Jaime hadn’t gone mad in his isolated office across the hall, playing enforcer for his father. Certainly, Jaime’s relationship with his family explained a lot and it was little wonder he found his pleasures in putting other people down when he spent most of his own time being criticised by his own family.

 

As it turned out, Jaime’s life was something of a gilded cage. Brienne could only hope that she was not condemning the child they would share to the same sort of life. The child could be acknowledged as a Lannister, if Jaime wished it, but Brienne took comfort in the knowledge that their agreement was to create an heir for Tarth.

 

Slowly, over the next few weeks, Brienne began to accept Jaime’s presence in her life. It was an adjustment and he still had his moments of sharp-tongued jibes but Brienne was getting better at retorting them, which for some reason seemed to make Jaime smile. In the mornings they occasionally worked out together, either running or doing weights and strengthening exercises and at least once a week they ate together. Most often Jaime went home after work, but if he seemed to need it she reluctantly allowed him to stay over at her apartment. When he did stay he kept to himself, always put the toilet seat down and invariably brought something for dinner as well. Jaime’s visits always seemed to be an opportunity for him to toil through more books on pregnancy, things which Jaime dared not have around his own flat for fear of his family seeing them.

 

Quietly in his office, however, Jaime Lannister was putting together his plans. A trust fund for the baby, looking at business opportunities in Tarth where Lannister Corp. could invest and researching nursery furniture. He had an office at home that he barely used, it could easily be switched to a nursery when he had the baby from time to time. Brienne could sleep in the guest room that no one ever used and he could buy another car, something more family friendly.

 

That weekend, Tommen had a riding lesson and Jaime, while wary of Cersei’s wrath, was still having trouble reconciling the discovery of her infidelity with the deeply embedded feelings for her that were so much a part of his being. Still, he managed to discover from Myrcella in Dorne the time of Tommen’s riding lesson and arranged things so he could be there to exercise Honour at the same time as Tommen was getting his instruction. Tommen looked over in Jaime’s direction anxiously and Jaime gave him an assuring nod. “Remember to keep your heels down,” Jaime said, not unkindly and Tommen redoubled his effort to please his Uncle Jaime. Cersei rarely praised her children and Tommen received nothing but empty praise from his Grandfather. Oddly, having so much neglected his own children, Tywin Lannister was all too ready to praise every correct homework exercise and spelling test his grandchildren presented him with, while scheming of ways to use them for political ends and paying no mind to the development of their character.

 

“Tommen is weak,” Tywin told Jaime at the next family dinner, “Tommen will always be weak as my father was. He is, however, a Lannister and even weak men can be useful if they will only learn to take instruction.”

 

Jaime ground his teeth and clutched his cutlery so tightly his knuckles turned white. Cersei smiled politely and sipped her wine and spoke about what a strong young man Joffrey had been and how devastating it still was to have lost him.

 

Jaime preferred not to think of the eldest child he had begotten on his sister. A cruel and sadistic youth, Jaime shuddered to think of Joffrey as his own. When not enduring his family or keeping the secret of his pact with Brienne, Jaime lived for Myrcella’s letters and phonecalls. A typical teenager, she got in touch only when she felt like it and only when she wasn’t off having so much fun she forgot all about those waiting at home. Myrcella never repeated the words she had whispered in his ear on the dockside the day she left, but Jaime heard it in her voice. At least, Jaime liked to think he did. She would chatter away about the handsome Dornish men and how warm the climate was compared with King’s Landing and Jaime would tell her to eat her vegetables and drink plenty of water and be careful of the boys, making Myrcella roll her eyes. Jaime didn’t need to see her to know that, he could tell from the way Myrcella said his name, ‘Uncle Jaime…!’ and it would make him laugh in response. Jaime missed her all the more because she felt closer to him than ever, and yet so far away.

 

At night, Jaime sat alone in his empty bachelor pad staring out the window and thinking of Cersei. Wondering if anyone vistied her while Tommen was at one of his many activities. She had never worked, Cersei, insisting she had quite enough to do as a wife and mother. Now, Jaime wondered what other uses she had put her mind to. He cherished the memory of his night with Brienne, smiled at the memory of surprising her in the shower, the confusion that crossed her face when he made it clear he wanted her again. The way she clutched at him when she came.

 

He liked wearing her clothes. He liked reading her books. He liked sitting on that awful sofa that poked his back and imagining the pudgy little baby that would crawl about her floor and call him Daddy. Imagined journeying with her to Tarth, watching Brienne teach their little one to sail. To ride a horse. To fence. Jaime didn’t have words for the warmth he felt in her presence, could not yet understand the way he stiffened warily around Cersei and relaxed around Brienne. Confusion marred his brain.

 

No, Jaime reconsidered, Brienne would teach the babe to sail but he would teach it to ride a horse, he thought to himself with a smile. Tour the Lannister stables.

 

He stood, walking over to the sliding doors of his penthouse apartment and slid his hands into his pockets, watching the rain on the glass and the way the droplets reflected the city lights in the dark as they journeyed downwards, pooling at the bottom as the rain continued to beat against the panes. All Jaime knew, as he stripped naked and slid into bed, was that he felt safe around Brienne and it had been so long since he felt that around anyone that Jaime didn’t quite know what to do with it. Instead he slid his hand down his body and gripped himself, thinking of strong thighs and blonde hair and the way she had looked him in the eye when they were joined.


	16. Chapter 16

At work Bronn watched Brienne carefully. He watched how her regular lunchtime sandwiches changed. How she went off certain foods and gorged herself on others. How she stopped drinking tea and coffee and stuck to water and light food in the mornings.

 

“So you did fuck him then?” Bronn asked abruptly one day. It was late morning, nearly lunch and they were both hard at work on separate projects.

 

“What?”

 

“You threw up in the ladies toilet this morning, you’ve stopped drinking caffeine. You love seafood because you grew up on an island, but you’ve cut a whole chunk of it out of your diet. Lollys is about to pop any minute and I’ve spent months running around King’s Landing in the middle of the night cause the missus has to have whatever weird shit she’s craving this week. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

 

Brienne’s heart dropped.

 

“Does he know?” Bronn pushed with a twitch of his head towards Jaime’s office across the hall.

 

Brienne nodded.

 

“Big secret is it?”

 

“We haven’t told anyone.”

 

“So there is a ‘we’, then? How far along?”

 

“First trimester,” Brienne stared at her work, unable to have this conversation if she looked Bronn in the eye. “And it’s not a 'we’. Not a relationship 'we’. It’s…we both need an heir and neither of us want to get married and settle down so we came to an arrangement.”

 

“An arrangement,” Bronn’s eyebrows rose. “Well far be it from me to get in the middle of your 'arrangement’ but who else knows you’re carrying the heir to the Lannister fortune.”

 

“I needed an heir for Tarth. Jaime agreed to help out. It’s got nothing to do with the Lannisters.”

 

Bronn nodded slowly. “Right. Have you met Tywin Lannister?”

 

Brienne tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about Lord Tywin’s reaction. Brienne had been clear from the start, clear with Jaime, it was Tarth that needed an heir. Alright, so if Jaime never had any other children and Tommen and Myrcella continued to masquerade as Baratheons then, yes, it might end up with a bit more money that the kid needed, but she’d known that all along. It was ridiculous to suggest this was some sort of-

 

Brienne stopped herself mid thought. No, it wasn’t ridiculous. Jaime needed an heir. She had known that all along as well. Yet somehow, even knowing Jaime and knowing Jaime was a Lannister and Tywin Lannister’s son, even knowing Jaime needed an heir, somehow all of the pieces had never clicked together. Her eyes snapped to Bronn who simply said, 'Yep,’ and looked away, back to the drawing board he was using.

 

Brienne stared into the distance as her mind tried to process what he was saying, the very facts that had been sitting in front of her for all this time. Somehow, the realisation of what she had asked, what Jaime had agreed to, was only just hitting her. If she had thought of this beyond _Jaime_ then Brienne knew she would never have considered asking him. But it was done now. She steeled herself, gritted her teeth and ignored the alarming drop in her blood pressure. Resolve and grit had gotten her through a lot in the past. There was nothing for it now but to get on with it.

 

Some days later, as Brienne reviewed her diary, she couldn’t help but notice that the date of her twelve week scan was approaching. She had followed all of her Doctor’s advice, had taken the supplements and avoided the foods she had been told to avoid. The nausea had been present, but not as all-consumingly awful as Brienne had anticipated. The exhaustion was worse. Many evenings she got home from work and collapsed onto her bed, barely able to prise herself off it an hour later to force herself to make something to eat. Once she had cooked everything herself, now she found herself often resorting to ready meals or buying take-away on her commute home in the evening. It wasn’t the healthiest option, but Brienne figured it was better to be eating something than nothing at all.

 

As the date of her appointment approached, Brienne could not escape the small but looming fact that after her scan she would have to officially inform Lannister Corp.’s Human Resources department and, more pertinently, Tywin Lannister himself. But first, there was the scan itself to endure. Her family Doctor had referred her to the Obstetrics Department at King’s Landing University Hospital. It was where most people in King’s Landing went to be treated, middle class and respectable and covered by her employer’s insurance policy. The Lannister’s, she imagined, probably made their Doctors come to them and the most expensive Doctors in Westeros, probably, or attended the exclusive private hospital called 'The Sept’ that only the wealthiest families could afford. Although Brienne came from an old house, it was a long time since there had been any money worth talking about.

 

With a sense of trepidation, Brienne knocked on Jaime’s door one day on her way out. He was sitting scowling at the telephone.

 

“Everything ok?” Brienne asked carefully.

 

Jaime looked up sharply. “Brienne!”

 

“You were miles away.”

 

“Cersei hasn’t called.”

 

“Was she supposed to call?”

 

“She told me she would call before I left tonight. Said she wanted to talk. I would go over but she doesn’t like me going there at night. Says it looks 'suspicious’. I have to call and get permission first, or sometimes she calls me, you know?”

 

Brienne didn’t know. It seemed an odd way to go about things, but what did she know. All her siblings had died before her. Galladon had always been the perfect elder brother, the apple of her father’s eye. His death had ripped her father’s heart out. “But she hasn’t called?” Brienne guessed.

 

Jaime shook his head. “What did you need to see me about? I called Finance, they don’t need the new covers until next week. You don’t need to worry about tomorrow’s deadline.”

 

“No, it wasn’t about work,” Brienne hesitated and then gathered her strength and took in a deep breath. “I have my first scan in a few days.”

 

“At The Sept?”

 

“At King’s Landing University Hospital,” Brienne corrected.

 

“But you’re carrying a Lannister,” Jaime frowned. “Why aren’t you going to The Sept?”

 

“Because my health insurance, provided by my employer covers this, Jaime and it’s perfectly adequate.”

 

“My father won’t be happy.”

 

“I’m not having a baby with your father, Jaime,” Brienne spoke firmly.

 

Jaime reached for the phone. “I’m going to call HR and have your health coverage increased.”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

“That will be necessary, so long as you’re,” Jaime waved a hand in the vague direction of her stomach. “We both know I should have done it weeks ago.”

 

“Jaime…”

 

Jaime sighed heavily. “You told me I was allowed to be involved,” he ground out and then held his hands out. “There’s not much I can do. I don’t live with you and we both know we’d probably kill each other if we did. I can’t run and get you food in the middle of the night, I can’t give you massages when your muscles ache. I can’t come and do your dishes when you’re feeling tired and if I hired you a maid you’d probably slap me. You get all the pain, you’re putting in all the effort, I hear you throwing up in the bathroom and sighing with exhaustion. The least I can do is make sure you both get the best possible care.”

 

Brienne felth the weight of his words but still, somehow, felt it necessary to express some sort of token resistence before conceding. “King’s Landing University Hospital is pefectly adequate, Jaime.”

 

Those words rang in his head. Those words from 'that night’. Adequate. Servicable. Brienne with her spartan existence. How very Stormlands of her.

 

“Humour me,” Jaime picked up the phone and dialled anyway.

 

“Jaime, really…”

 

Jaime tucked the phone under his ear and looked up at her. “I told you once I trusted you, because I do, but you have to understand…I’m a Lannister. What happens when I walk in there with you in a few days?”

 

“You’re coming?” Brienne’s mouth hung open.

 

“Am I allowed to come?”

 

“Of course you’re allowed…”

 

“Then I’m coming,” Jaime insisted, “And a place that big and that public has no privacy. Every person we pass, every patient we see will talk the press. Not to mention the staff, the nurses. There are people who will pay thousands for that scan. We’ve been here before. Trust me, Brienne, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.” Jaime stared at her earnestly, his hand hovering over the button to hang up. “At least at The Sept the only person they’ll talk to is Varys and anyone who sees us is looking for discretion as much as everyone else.”

 

On the other end the ringing phone was answered.

 

“The Sept, Marie speaking, how can I help you?”

 

Jaime continued to stare at Brienne. A tinny 'hello’ echoed down the line when there was no response.

 

Reluctantly, Brienne nodded.

 

“Jaime Lannister here, I’d like to make an appointment.”


	17. Chapter 17

Brienne received the paperwork from The Sept the next day – delivered straight to her desk by a private courier. It reassured her that all her medical notes were being securely transferred and noted an appointment for the following afternoon.

A short while later she got a personal visit from the most senior member of the HR department who had come upstairs to personally bring documents for her signature which the head of HR was keen to point out were all personally requested by Mister Lannister. Brienne read over the changes carefully. More holiday entitlement, maternity pay, flexible working, better medical coverage.

Brienne reviewed each change, reading it carefully before signing each copy at the bottom. Brienne knew it was preferential treatment. She also knew it wasn’t for her, it was for the child and she would accept it on that basis.

Bronn pointedly stared forwards, ignoring everything going on just a little bit too hard. Brienne was left with a copy of each of the documents.

“Just say it if you’re going to say it,” Brienne grumbled.

“Wasn’t going to say anything, actually,” Bronn insisted.

“Of course you weren’t.”

“I was just thinking, how funny it is that he has a ruthless cutthroat reputation when he’s such a softie at heart.”

“Look who’s talking,” Brienne retorted.

“Nah, I’m just pragmatic me,” Bronn shrugged.

Brienne thought back to that morning, to the chewing up over the phone of the head of the accounts department. Jaime’s reputation wasn’t much better than his father’s. The Enforcer. His father’s right hand. He was particularly snappish when he had been around Cersei, or sometimes, not been around her. When she hadn’t called. When she had snubbed him. She would never pretend to understand the relationship between the two siblings, but Brienne resolved to focus on herself and the child. The next day Jaime Lannister stopped by Brienne’s office at noon and hovered in the doorway, looking slightly nervous and yet perfectly turned out in his tailored three piece suit, bespoke shirts and silk tie.

Brienne felt out of place in the baggy white shirt she was wearing, which she had to buy too big to get one long enough in the arms and back. She couldn’t help but notice he had the file with him, marked project ‘Project 21225’ in Brienne’s handwriting.

“I took the liberty of filing the paperwork from yesterday.” Jaime lifted the folder slightly to indicate what he was talking about.

Bronn smiled his polite smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold the fort.”

Jaime glanced awkwardly at Bronn.

“Bronn knows,” Brienne said instantly.

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up.

“I guessed,” Bronn informed Jaime. “What with the throwing up and the food cravings and the tiredness.”

“Right.” Jaime looked from Bronn to Brienne. “Do me a favour?”

“My lips are sealed, Boss,” Bronn said. He then turned to Brienne and jerked his head. “Go on, then.”

Brienne felt frozen in her seat but forced herself to get up. She felt every inch of her height, the length of her limbs, the awkwardness in the way she walked. Her stomach churned, a seasick combination of nerves and morning sickness. “Ask after Lollys,” Brienne instructed Jaime.

“How is Lollys?” Jaime asked obediently.

Bronn looked from one to the other. “About one good shag from childbirth, thanks for asking.”

Brienne screwed up her face at the words.

“It’s well known sex induces childbirth, Tarth,” Bronn informed Brienne cheerfully and then he began to whistle as Jaime and Brienne took their leave and walked down the hall to the lift. Jaime slid his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder, standing there all perfect in his perfect waistcoat and perfect trousers.

Brienne tried to pretend she wasn’t attracted by the sight of him in a three piece suit. There was silence between them, slightly heated. Charged. Nervous.

The doors chimed and then opened revealing Cersei Lannister who looked slowly from one to the other.

“Sweet Sister,” Jaime greeted her. “Bad timing. Working lunch.”

Cersei took in Brienne, from the top of her straw-like hair down to her overly-large feet. “With that sow?”

Jaime hung his head. He stared at the floor and ground his teeth. “Cersei, I’m busy.”

Cersei slapped Jaime, hard. So hard that Brienne winced at the sound of her palm against Jaime’s cheek, hard enough to make his face red and her ring would probably leave a mark. Cersei kept her eyes focused, as if drilling into Jaime’s mind. “I’ll see you tonight, Jaime.”

Jaime said nothing.

“I said,” Cersei’s voice dropped. “I’ll see you tonight. Brother. Won’t I?”

It wasn’t much of a question and Jaime stood very still, refusing to look at either Brienne or Cersei. He was uncharacteristically silent. The words, when they came, were forced out. “Yes, Cersei.”

Cersei stepped back into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor. Her parting smirk at Brienne was knowing, scathing and condescending.

Brienne was left stunned.

Jaime reached out and pressed the down button again, twitching anxiously.

“Jaime?” Brienne spoke quietly.

“Don’t.”

Brienne tried to keep her silence. She lasted until they were alone in the lift together. “Does she often hit you?”

“I won’t raise my hand to a woman.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Brienne’s low, firm voice made it clear she knew Jaime was avoiding the question. She also knew she wasn’t likely to get an answer until Jaime volunteered it.

Jaime’s evasion was almost answer enough. Outside, instead of taking one of the Lannister town cars they took Brienne’s own mid-range second hand five year old car. She stopped off at the first corner store she could find and bought a packet of frozen veg for Jaime’s face and a bottle of water for herself. The instructions she had received said to drink plenty of water. Jaime dabbed his face with the packet of cold peas as Brienne drove them to the hospital.

“Stop it,” Jaime said out of the blue.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking. I can hear you from here.”

Brienne bit her lip. There was a lot of things she wanted to say, wanted to ask. How was it that someone with the reputation of Jaime Lannister, the Lion of Lannister as some called him, could allow himself to be put in this position. Was it her place to be worried about him? Maybe there was just too much she didn’t understand about his relationship with Cersei. After all, she reminded herself what she had been taught since childhood: it wasn’t her place to judge. “I just want you to know that my offer stands. You can always come over, Jaime. Whenever you want. You…or Tommen.”

Jaime looked up.

Brienne stared forwards out the window, ignoring his probing eyes. The questions. The bewilderment. People weren’t kind to Lannisters. People didn’t do Lannisters favours. People didn’t help Jaime Lannister out, simply because of the goodness of their heart.

Except Brienne.

Across the car Jaime felt his eyes prickle. He blinked until the sensation was gone and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Brienne.”

Brienne nodded solemnly.

 

The hospital was as expensive, posh and high end as Brienne expected. From the décor to the turnout of the staff and the building itself. It spoke of riches, of bespoke treatments, of comfort and luxury. The atrium was tiled with the highest quality Dornish rugs, marble columns and ornate plasterwork coated in gold foil. It looked less like a hospital and more like King’s Landing Museum and Art Gallery.

They were met personally at the reception and guided through a series of corridors, all quietly lit with soft uplamps and decorated with tasteful images of Westerosi landscapes. Occasionally there were patches of seats but instead of the plain plastic chairs that normally graced hospital corridors, the chairs were soft leather armchairs that looked comfortable enough to sleep in.

They probably were.

The room they were led to contained a single bed and a piece of equipment that Brienne could only guess was the ultrasound machine. There was a sink and a series of cupboards. There was a pair of chairs and a small coffee table in the corner which was centred with a vase containing a small posey of fresh flowers and a series of information leaflets on what to expect in pregnancy and the hospital’s maternity services.

The technician was a kindly older woman from the summer isles, who introduced herself as Grace and spent a few moments making small talk before asking Brienne to sit up on the bed. By their familiarity Brienne quickly guessed that Jaime and the woman knew each other. It only added to her anxiety.

“Mister Lannister,” The technician gave him a smile and a nod. A nurse entered with a file of patient notes and hovered in the corner.

Jaime stood stiffly, as awkward as Brienne had ever seen the man.

Grace ignored his awkwardness and looked down to read her notes. “Brienne Tarth,” Grace scans her eyes down the page of notes. “You’ve attended your family doctor…otherwise fit and healthy. You’ve been avoiding the listed foods?”

“Yes.”

“And this is your first pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

Grace smiled, her face calming.

Somehow just looking at her eased Brienne’s anxiety. Brienne looked for Jaime and he came to stand by the top of the bed.

“Any unusual bleeding?” Grace enquired.

“No.”

“Good.”

Brienne watched Grace wash her hands with soap and then sterilise them with alcohol gel. She asked Brienne to lay back and asked her lift or unbutton her blouse. Brienne felt all the more conscious of Jaime’s presence but unbuttoned her blouse as asked, revealing the plain nude t-shirt bra she had chosen that day. It was already too small for her, but she had yet to pluck up the courage to go and buy another, not before twelve weeks, with all the worst possibilities running through her mind.

“Ok, you’re going to need some new lingerie soon, Miss Tarth. I recommend getting something non-wired and comfortable, and get fitted again in a couple of months.”

“Is it normal for them to start changing this early on?” Brienne looked at Grace, ignoring Jaime. Brienned didn’t want to exclude him, but it felt strange having him there for such a personal moment. Such a personal conversation.

“Most pregnant women gain several cup sizes, so no it’s not unusual – but expect to keep growing.”

Several cup sizes? Brienne had always thought she had nothing worth writing home about in the breast department. She couldn’t imagine being several sizes bigger.

“Now did you drink some water on the way in?” Grace was waiting for her to answer her question and so Brienne forced herself to focus.

“Yes.”

“Great. We get much stronger responses with a full bladder. So, I get to be the first to meet the next Lannister, huh?” Grace smiled broadly. She spread the gel low on Brienne’s abdomen and pulled the top of her trousers down a little to get better access.

Brienne was laid out on her back in a strange place with her shirt open, she was still feeling a little nauseous and needed desperately to pee. Jaime was sporting a red cheek where Cersei had slapped him and was hovering anxiously, putting the bedside table between him and her to keep some sort of distance.

Grace spread the gel around a little and applied the stick, moving it around a little. She looked at the screen, finding what she was looking for with a smile. “Alright, here we go. Everything looks normal. I just need to do a few checks.”

Jaime twitched anxiously. Brienne’s heart was in her mouth. Finally, Grace said, “It all looks good. Let me turn the sound up a little.”

The sound of rapid whoosing filled the room.

Brienne felt her heart surge, then the screen was turned around. A large, warm, masculine palm slid into her own and squeezed her hand.

“Congratulations, Miss Tarth.”

It was Jaime who noticed it first. But Brienne could hear it now, in the swooshing that filled the room.

“There’s an extra heartbeat?” Jaime asked.

Grace smiled and nodded. “Looks like you’re having twins.”


	18. Chapter 18

Brienne stared at the blur on the screen in mixed elation and horror. Her mind was blank, stunned, as Grace turned the screen towards them and pointed out the head and body of first one and then the other.

 

In her head she dubbed them Blob One and Blob Two.

 

Jaime’s hand squeezed hers a little bit tighter. “Twins?”

 

“It tends to run in families,” Grace replied. “Being a twin yourself increases the possibility. Any twins in your own family, Miss Tarth?”

 

Brienne stared at the screen, still trying to form words. A vague memory of two little bodies wrapped in shrouds, the confusion of a toddler who didn’t understand anything except her father’s tears and the smell of death. “My sisters,” Brienne whispered. “They didn’t survive.” Nor, her mind added, did her mother. One of the placenta failed to detach properly and opting for a home birth on Tarth, her mother had bled out before she could be airlifted to a hospital. “I’d like a hospital birth,” Brienne said out loud.

 

“Good. A twin pregnancy is considered higher risk so we would usually recommend a hospital birth.”

 

Jaime squeezed Brienne’s hand even tighter. When Brienne turned to him his eyes were deep pools of emotion. His teeth were clamped together, his face expressionless. Everything in him from the earliest age had taught him to suppress his emotions but Brienne need only look in his eyes to know what he was really thinking. Ever since their night together, he had never hid himself from her. She held his gaze for a long moment. Honestly, when Brienne had come up with the idea, she wasn’t at all sure it would even get her pregnant and now they were here.

 

Jaime lifted Brienne’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

 

Grace printed out copies of the image for Jaime and Brienne. Jaime put his straight in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, where it would lie beside his heart.

 

Brienne clutched hers in her hand, staring at it all the way to the car.

 

“Are you ok to drive?” Jaime asked quietly. His hand was still in hers, his thumb running over the soft skin on the back of her hand. He didn’t seem inclined to let go and Brienne was enjoying the sensation too much to say anything. It was nice to pretend, if only for a while.

 

Brienne nodded. “Twins?”

 

Jaime grinned.

 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “It was only supposed to be one,” She grumbled. “I live in a one bedroom apartment.”

 

“Worry about that later. We’re having twins!”

 

They stopped outside her car and Brienne looked across at Jaime, at the excitement and warmth in his eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips. The calm joy, so different from the anger and hate Cersei had stirred in him earlier.

 

Brienne opened the car and they both slid into their seats and Jaime grinned away to himself as Brienne started the engine. “You’re going to be unbearable.”

 

“Twins!” Jaime crowed. “I mean, that’s not bad for a first attempt. Or was it the second attempt?” Jaime paused thoughtfully. “Did you have a preference for the bed or the shower? Personally I like to think it was one of each.”

 

“I should have thrown you out of the shower when I had the chance.”

 

“And pass over the change to have your wicked way with Jaime Lannister?” Jaime smirked and licked his lips.

 

Brienne tore her eyes away from those lips and stared out the windscreen. She indicated to pull out of the space. “I suppose we’d better tell your father.”

 

Jaime groaned. “Can’t we just keep it to ourselves a bit longer?”

 

Brienne glanced sideways at Jaime’s cheek, where it had remained slightly red after Cersei’s assault earlier. “It would be dishonest to keep it from him. He is my employer.”

 

“You’ve kept it from him for twelve weeks.”

 

“And now we’ve reached twelve weeks the medical advice is we no longer have to keep it to ourselves. I’m carrying his grandchildren.” Brienne followed the path they had come, navigating back to their offices at Lannister Corporation. “You know what they say. No time like the present.”

 

Jaime fell silent. Uncharacteristically silent. Before getting to know him better, when Brienne had first joined Lannister Corp. she had thought that Jaime Lannister was one of the loudest, mouthiest people she had ever met. He seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut, of staying silent even for a few moments. Now he had begun to gravitate towards her in his spare time, she found he often fell into long silent periods of introspection. Jaime allowed her to drive and said nothing. He followed her back into the building, he nodded politely to the security guards and called them by name.

 

That surprised Brienne.

 

He pressed the button for the top floor, the exclusive domain of Tywin Lannister where even his children were not supposed to venture without his permission.

 

Brienne had felt quite self assured about her decision until the lift doors opened on the penthouse floor. Every inch of wall was wood panelled, expensive oil colours of historic events hung on the walls along with tapestries, expensive antique vases and ornaments sitting on old Targaryen furniture that cost more than Brienne made in a year.

 

Outside the door a dark haired woman with a Lorathi accent smiled politely.

 

“You don’t have an appointment Mister Lannister,” The woman stated pre-emptively. She cast a quick glance at Brienne and dismissed her, raising her chin to meet Jaime’s eye.

 

“Shae. I would say it’s a pleasure but…” Jaime tailed off into a wince. “Trust me when I say he’ll want to hear this.”

 

The woman, Shae apparently, was unmoved. “Well then, as soon as you tell me what you’d like to see your father about, I’ll decide if it’s worth interrupting him.”

 

“I won’t be telling the whore who tore my brother’s heart out and moved in with my father a damn thing.” Jaime stormed past the woman, Brienne following in his wake, looking stunned. “She’s fucking my father,” Jaime muttered quietly.

 

“I gathered that,” Brienne looked from Shae to Jaime but followed Jaime to the doorway that Jaime threw open.

 

When Jaime confidently strided inside, Brienne lingered in the doorway.

 

Lord Tywin Lannister was sitting at a mahogany desk, heaps of papers surrounding him. In his hand he clutched an old fashioned fountain pen, scribbling his signature on a page before moving it to one side and picking up another page of correspondence.

 

“Jaime?” Tywin Lannister glanced up briefly, “If you don’t mind, I’m a little busy.” And just like that his attention was gone, his pen back on the page quickly before moving onto the next.

 

“Father.”

 

With that single word, Jaime had his father’s attention. Tywin looked up at his son properly and then at Brienne, standing in the doorway. “Miss Tarth. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Lord Lannister.”

 

“Nonsense,” Tywin smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile, but it was more than Jaime got. Tywin looked from Brienne to her son. “Well don’t linger in the doorway. If you’re coming in, come in.”

 

Brienne stepped forward, nervously. She had rarely been in the office of the CEO of Lannister Corporation and they were styled to be intimidating to those who visited while the man himself looked as at home here as he seemed to be anywhere. He had a commanding, authoritarian air about him and Brienne felt her stomach flutter with nerves. But it was the right thing to do, she counselled herself. She stepped forwards to stand beside Jaime. “Jaime came here to inform you that…that you are going to become a grandfather.”

 

Tywin looked from one to the other. He looked slightly surprised, but not displeased. “A grandfather?”

 

“I am with child,” Brienne said simply.

 

“I see.” Lord Tywin put down his fountain pen. “And Jaime is the father, am I to understand?”

 

Jaime raised his chin, presenting false confidence to his father. There was nothing Tywin Lannister hated more than weakness. “I am.”

 

“And…no disrespect intended to you, Miss Tarth…but you are quite sure.”

 

A blush washed over Brienne’s face. “There’s no one else. No other…candidate.”

 

Tywin Lannister nodded sharply.

 

“I…I wanted to provide an heir. For Tarth. Jaime agreed to…assist.” The words came out awkward. Stilted. Speaking in stressful situations had never been her forte.

 

“An admirable aim,” Tywin glanced at his son. “I am somewhat surprised that Jaime agreed, but no matter. You will be married within the fortnight.”

 

The breath was stolen from Brienne’s chest. “What?”

 

“You are carrying the heir to House Lannister,” Tywin stated simply. “You cannot for a moment imagine I would allow the child to be born out of wedlock.”

 

“I don’t want to get married.”

 

“Nonsense. It is a simple legal agreement.”

 

“I don’t…I don’t love Jaime.” Brienne glanced at Jaime a hint of apology in her gaze but he seemed unperturbed.

 

“Who said anything about love?” Tywin pressed. “Marriage is a contract, Miss Tarth. How you and your husband may conduct yourselves and choose to live is a private matter. However, when the heir of House Lannister begets a noble woman, a noble woman of unquestionable conduct, you must see as a woman of Honour that there is no question as to the issue of marriage. I suppose, if it is particularly disagreeable, you and Jaime may divorce in a few years. This child, however, will be born in wedlock. Do I have your understanding?”

 

Brienne couldn’t form words, overcome by the commanding tone that not even her father had used with her.

 

“Jaime?” Tywin pressed.

 

“Yes, Father?”

 

Whatever Tywin saw in Jaime’s gaze he nodded sharply, satisfied by his son’s response. “Good.”

 

“Actually,” Jaime spoke slowly. “It’s children.” Jaime’s eyes went to Brienne, softening slightly. “Brienne’s carrying twins.”

 

Tywin looked up in surprise. “All the more reason. I will make all the arrangements. The prenuptual agreement will be on your desk within the week, Miss Tarth. Which hospital are you using?”

 

Brienne glanced at Jaime. “The Sept.”

 

Tywin nodded. “Good. My son has some sense, at least. Congratulations, Miss Tarth. Finally, someone in this family understands the importance of duty to one’s family. I wish you much health and happiness. I expect to be fully appraised of any risks to the child or advice as to rest and working. If the Doctor advises bed rest, you will have bed rest if I have to post security guards to your apartment door, do you understand, Miss Tarth.”

 

“That’s…you can’t do that!”

 

“I am the most powerful man in King’s Landing, Miss Tarth. I can do many things. I can only imagine this is why Jaime has been putting business proposals on my desk concerning investment in your island…”

Brienne’s eyes widened at that news, but she had no time to question the matter further, for Lord Tywin ploughed on.

“…But we can discuss that in due course. The ceremony will be small and private and announced in the newspaper the next day. I will inform you in due course of the date and time.”

 

Brienne Tarth turned her back on Lord Tywin Lannister and stormed from the room.


	19. Chapter 19

Brienne felt her blood pressure rise. She couldn’t even bring herself to excuse herself from his presence. Jaime excused them both on her behalf as Brienne stormed from the room and pressed the button for the lift, continuing to press it repeatedly as the lift slowly made it’s way up, seeming to stop at every floor on the way to the top floor.

 

Jaime caught up with her before the lift did, standing silently at her shoulder. Brienne wouldn’t say anything in front of Shae, but inside her heart pounded and anger surged inside her. As soon as the doors closed she turned on Jaime, “You knew!”

 

“Brienne…”

 

“You knew he would force us into this!”

 

Jaime shrugged. “It was always a possibility. I tried to warn you.”

 

“You did nothing of the sort.”

 

“I advised we not tell him straight away,” Jaime pointed out.

 

“And I was supposed to guess what, from that piece of advice? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Jaime seemed to slump, his eyes wavering back from the quiet strength he had displayed in front of his father to the more vulnerable man he seemed to allow out in private around her. “I wanted a child,” He said quietly. “You offered, when I needed someone most.”

 

“This isn’t my fault!”

 

“It isn’t anyone’s fault,” Jaime tried to pick up Brienne’s hand but she tore it away. “My father’s right, it is a simple legal arrangement that makes it easier for me to provide for the twins, that’s all. We don’t need to sleep together, we don’t even need to live together and you’ll get a chunk of my wealth when we divorce.”

 

“When we divorce?” Brienne frowned. The simple idea of marrying with the intention of divorcing a few years was abhorrent to her. People married to make a lifetime commitment.

 

Jaime simply shrugged. “Would it be so bad? Lady Lannister?”

 

Brienne’s anger drained at the softness in his voice. “Why would you want to marry me?” She knew very well she was not the sort of woman that men imagined marrying. Her height, her tomboy tendencies, her athleticism were all things that Brienne knew many men sneered at. They had told her often enough, teased and bullied her endlessly – and Jaime amongst them. Notwithstanding their one night together when, admittedly, he had actually been rather sweet. But Brienne had long ago given up any notion of tying herself down to a man. She wanted to live her life, not play second place to supporting her husband.

Jaime turned to her, looking into her eyes to assess if she was serious in her request. “Why? Because I know what the press will say as soon as they get wind of this and I want to protect you from that. Because it’ll raise fewer questions. Because in an odd way it might give us more freedom to do what we want. Because I’d be proud to call you my wife and because you’re the mother of my children. Because I’d like to support you. Because so much else in my life is decided for me and being there for you is a choice I _can_ make, a choice that I don’t have the power to make elsewhere in my life. Because I know you’re not marrying me for my wealth and because if you do say yes, you’ll still be unapologetically Lady Brienne, the Evenstar of Tarth…and I like that about you.”

 

“You don’t know that. Your father, the media, everyone will delete who I am.”

 

“I do know that,” Jaime pressed, “You are the most honest and upstanding person I have ever met. Brienne, you’ll keep your titles and Tarth, you’ll keep all your own wealth. You can keep your own name. You don’t have to sleep with me - although, for the record, I would like to point out that I am indeed strong enough-”

“Shut up,” Brienne muttered, turning bright red.

“Your loss. Brienne, you don’t even have to move in with me. If you want to keep a good cover we can get you an adjoining apartment in the Tower and what we do or don’t do in private will be our own business instead of the cause of constant speculation. It’s only for a year or two, and with twins there’ll be one child for Tarth and one for Casterley Rock. Lets just not let them start shagging at twelve. I hear that way madness lies,” Jaime tilted his head to one side and looked up at her. “Just think of it as a contract.”

 

“A contract?”

 

“Just a contract,” Jaime pressed. “That will make you very comfortable and provide for our children.”

 

“I’m not doing this for comfort,” Brienne stated.

 

“No…” Jaime acknowledged, and then paused, “But it doesn’t hurt.”

 

Brienne thought of Lollys, of her ordeal, of the match arranged by the Lannisters with Bronn. No, it didn’t hurt, be comfortable, to be provided for. Brienne was already employed by the Lannisters and she knew that wherever she went, her relationship with them would define her. You didn’t work directly under Jaime Lannister without being considered his creature in some way. How was this any different? Brienne took in a breath, raised herself to her full height and schooled her features into formality. “Then I consent.”

 

Jaime nodded. “I promise I won’t ask anything of you you’re unwilling to give.”

 

Brienne stared into his eyes, wondering. He didn’t mention sex again, but she saw it in his eyes, what he was trying to say and remembered he had an appointment that night with Cersei. “And I promise not to interfere with any other,” Brienne searched for the right word, “Commitments.”

 

“Commitments?”

 

Brienne rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

 

“You mean you won’t get in the way of me fucking my Sister. You can say it, Brienne. There are no secrets between us.”

 

“Between you Cersei? I wouldn’t expect there to be.” It was a difficult thing to say, to acknowledge the expectation that everything that happened between her and Jaime was probably shared with that hateful woman. The woman who, for some reason, held Jaime’s heart.

 

Jaime looked down at his hands. “No, I meant between you and me. It’s been a long time since I told Cersei everything.” He paused for a beat, “And apparently it’s been a long time since she told me everything either. Osmund Kettleblack will testify to that.” Jaime sighed heavily. “There are times I wish I didn’t love her, but we can’t always help who we love.”

 

Brienne thought of Renly Baratheon, who would have made such a good father. Who would have loved and doted on the sweet summer child they would have made together. A child she could imagine with blue eyes and wild, brown curls. But such a thing would never happen now and it did no one any good to linger on the thought. Then, as if her mind was catching up with itself, Brienne computed Jaime’s words. He had no secrets from her.

 

The lift arrived at their floor and pinged open. Brienne stared at him, wide eyed. Jaime glanced back, calmly. He always seemed so calm when he looked at her, as if he unlocked a part of himself when around her that no one else could access.

 

“You’re my best friend,” Jaime said quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Will you see her tonight?” Brienne whispered.

 

“Probably.”

 

Brienne nodded and wondered how much first aid he would need this time but she pursed her lips and said nothing. With a silent nod she parted ways with Jaime in the corridor between their offices, the distance between their desks seeming, somehow, both closer together and further apart than ever before.

 

With a couple of hours left of the afternoon, Brienne and Jaime returned to work and the message waiting in her inbox told Brienne the wedding was, indeed, arranged for two weeks later. At least provisionally. Towards the end of the day Tyrion Lannister came to deliver the draft pre-nup while Jaime disappeared, supposedly at his Father’s behest. Brienne suspected Tywin was keeping them apart on purpose, but it wasn’t her place to involve herself in Lannister family politics.

“Already? You work fast.”

“It’s based on a template document, but I filled in the details to give you an idea of what we’re thinking.”

Even seated at her desk, she towered over The Imp. The prenuptial agreement in his hand was delivered to her and Tyrion chatted away to Bronn, asking after Lollys. Brienne both wanted to know everything and nothing about the impending birth. She wondered if she should speak to Lollys when she was further along, and feeling braver about the upcoming ordeal. But she had months to prepare herself for that and there were more immediate concerns. The ultrasound of the twins in her pocket was reminder enough.

 

Brienne sat at her desk, her work half-finished, reading the document. It was more generous than she expected and everything Jaime had explained was in it. The independence of Tarth, she would keep everything that she had when she entered into the marriage in the event of divorce as well as a large chunk of his own fortune. She didn’t need the money, but Brienne also knew the futility of arguing with Jaime. He would only press the fact that Brienne had promised him he could help.

 

“It looks agreeable but as a precaution I will need to have a lawyer look over the documents.”

 

“Of course,” Tyrion bowed. “The wedding will take place at the Lannister Family Sept unless you have a particular preference for traipsing through mud to find a Weirwood tree. I will be my brother’s best man. You will need a Maid of Honour but I suspect you already intend to ask a certain Sansa Stark. My father thought you would rather walk up the aisle yourself but if you wish to have someone give you away, doubtless we will be able to find someone to do the Honour if you should so insist.”

Brienne paused for a moment and stared at the page. How much had happened in one day, and it wasn’t over yet.


	20. Chapter 20

“While I’m here…I don’t suppose you have the scan?”

 

Brienne stalled. The scan? He wanted to see the babies. In a disorderly manner Brienne reached for her bag and withdrew the picture she kept there for Tyrion’s perusal.

 

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion looked the picture over carefully. “I can see the likeness.”

 

“Can you?” Bronn looked over. “Looks like a couple of blobs to me.”

 

“No, you idiot! Of course I can’t!” Tyrion waved a hand at the picture. “I was being sarcastic!”

 

“Oh. Right.” Bronn nodded.

 

Tyrion handed the picture back to Brienne. “Twins?” Tyrion asked mildly, but there was insinuation in his tone. The exact same sort of insinuation Jaime had already made.

 

“Yes,” Brienne replied curtly, taking the photograph back.

 

“Does Cersei know?”

 

“About the babies or the wedding?”

 

Tyrion opened his hands wide. “Both? Either?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s between Jaime and Cersei,” Brienne said.

 

Tyrion’s eyes narrowed. He stared at her for a long time. “Between Jaime and Cersei,” He said very slowly and then nodded. “Well, I hope you have a good lock on your door. Oh, and, I would advise you don’t eat anything you haven’t prepared yourself.” Tyrion’s smirk as he departed was the thing that lingered in Brienne’s mind the rest of the afternoon. When it was time to go home, Brienne knocked on Jaime’s open office door and found him staring into space, his work long since discarded.

 

“Jaime?”

 

Jaime blinked back to the present. “Brienne?”

 

Brienne wrung her hands. “You’re meeting Cersei tonight?”

 

“I am,” Jaime leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. As always, when he looked at her his face seemed to calm, the tension in his features relaxed and he almost smiled. “Pregnancy suits you, you know?”

 

“I feel awful. I’ve never felt so tired in my life.”

 

Jaime smiled at her softly. “Be careful, won’t you?”

 

“You’re going to meet Cersei and you’re telling me to be careful?” Brienne prodded.

 

Jaime’s features locked down at the mention of Cersei’s name. “I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”

 

“Thank you for your concern, but I can look after myself.”

 

“I know you can,” Jaime glanced up at her and then looked away again.

 

Brienne watched him for a long moment, “If I ask you to call me, will you actually call me?”

 

Jaime’s face hardened, “It’s none of her business.”

 

“I may not know her as well as you do, Jaime, but even I know she considers everything you do to be her business.”

 

“Brienne…”

 

“Jaime, I’m just asking you, as a friend, to let me know that you’re alright,” Brienne said seriously. “You never know, if you’re not I may even prise myself off the sofa.”

 

“Now steady on, Brienne, lets not over do it!” Jaime quipped. It brought a smile to both their faces but when the laughter died Brienne was still waiting for her answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brienne.”

 

“Jaime…” Brienne stepped forwards, concern colouring her features. Jaime did meet her eye then. Brienne had always been someone whose heart was an open book, whose every feeling crossed her face.

 

“I’ll be careful,” He said slowly, the only concession he was willing to make. Brienne kept eye contact long enough to know he meant what he said and then excused herself and left for home. She didn’t look back once, knowing if she did she wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave Jaime alone to deal with his sister.

 

There was no phone call that night, only a knock at the door at two o'clock in the morning.

 

Brienne awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of a pale, haphazard knocking on her apartment door and the sound of something heavy sliding to the floor in the hall outside. She was out of bed in an instant and opened her door to find Jaime slumped on the floor. There was blood. That was the first thing she noticed. The blood spattered and the footsteps spreading them down the hall.

 

Someone had left him here.

 

Brienne looked him over. Half-unconscious, hints of injury underneath his rumbled shirt and his right hand, lying on the wooden floorboards, his fingers crushed beyond all repair.

 

Brienne reached for her phone and called for an ambulance then she sank to the floor at his side and cradled the only part of him she dared touch – his soft head of hair.

 

“I’m here, Jaime. It’s over. I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

 

Jaime let out a soft groan, the mumble of her name. “Brienne?”

 

“Ssshh,” Brienne kissed his temple as tears of pain tracked down his face.

 

“It hurts,” He whimpered.

 

Brienne could do nothing but hold him as sirens wailed outside, the rush of paramedics on the stairs. Police officers.

 

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Jaime being rushed off to hospital, Brienne giving statements. The quandary of whether to leave her apartment (now crawling with forensics and police) tr go to the hospital or stay where her mind insisted she was needed. In the end Brienne stayed after receiving a call from Tyrion telling her he was at the hospital and that Jaime would want her took after Nibbles and Nibbins.

 

“Who?”

 

“You know…the…blobs.”

 

Brienne wanted to protest, but now was not the time to argue about Jaime’s tendency to make up ridiculous nicknames. “We are not calling them Nibbles and Nibbins,” Brienne sighed. “Just tell me you’ll stay with him?”

 

“I’ll stay as long as I can and then I’ll get Pod over here and have him stay in my stead. They’re taking him straight into emergency surgery. My father has asked to be kept informed.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“What I mean is, I’ll keep my father informed. You concentrate on not having a miscarriage.”

 

“What?”

 

“Brienne,” Tyrion said slowly, “You’re three months pregnant. You just had a big shock. Jaime will live. He may or may not have a hand by dawn but he’ll live. Focus on that, and focus on the children. He needs you well.”

 

Brienne nodded. Tyrion was right, there were other things to focus on now. She could feel the way her heart still beat rapidly, her high blood pressure. Speaking to the officer in charge, Brienne asked him to hurry along the last of the work in the doorway so she could head inside her apartment and as soon as the door could be closed, excused herself to go lie down on the promise that she would be available in the next few days to answer further questions. She knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep, but at least lying down helped. Brienne spent long hours listening to the officers outside go about their work.

 

Somewhere along the way, Brienne must have drifted off. She was awoken in the morning by the daylight coming through the curtains that she still hadn’t replaced yet. Some day she would get around to putting blackout blinds up, but it was not this day.

 

Brienne dressed in comfortable clothes and packed a bag for Jaime. Perhaps Tyrion had done so already, or had one of the Lannister staff do it, but Brienne wouldn’t put it past them to forget all practical matters such as clean underwear, pyajamas or deodorant. She packed him what she could from her own things and phoned Tywin Lannister’s office on her way to the hospital explaining to the secretary, Shae, that she would not be in work today. Brienne hung up before the woman could ask her further questions.

 

On the way to the hospital Brienne turned on the radio, hoping for some relaxing music to take her mind off things. Instead she happened up a news bulletin.

 

“ _This morning’s breaking news is that Jaime Lannister, the heir to House Lannister and the Lannister Corporation, is in hospital today after suffering what are said to be serious injuries as a result of an assault. Sources say Jaime Lannister was rushed into emergency surgery at King’s Landing University Hospital upon arrival in the early hours of this morning. His condition is said to serious but stable. Separately, police investigating the incident have arrested Osmund Kettleblack and Jaime Lannister’s twin sister, Cersei Lannister on charges of assault and GBH with the potential for more charges pending. Sources say police were seen at The Red Towers, a high end apartment complex owned by the Lannister family where many members of the Lannister family and their immediate circle live.”_

 

Brienne switched off the radio. Their engagement wasn’t public yet, and Brienne didn’t have a ring, but Brienne could only hope the Lannister family were experienced enough at dealing with the press to have their own people to deal with the baying mob of media who would probably be waiting outside.

 

Brienne decided she couldn’t deal with the press corp that was doubtless waiting without a cup of coffee, even if it had to be decaf. She stopped at a drive through and checked her phone while she was waiting.

 

Her inbox was full and she had dozens of text messages.


	21. Chapter 21

Her phone rang, revealing Poderick Payne’s name. Brienne cautiously answered it.

“My Lady, Miss Brienne, Madam, Tyrion says not to go to the hospital because there’s lots of press waiting and they’re trying to get him moved to The Sept because it’s more private there but they don’t have an emergency room.

“Pod, I need to see Jaime and whether the Lannisters like it or not, we are having children together and apparently, we’re now getting married as well and even if I wasn’t his fiance, which I am, I’m also one of the only friends he has. So whatever Tyrion says, I’m coming to the hopsital.”

“Yes, well, Tyrion said you would say that and he said, if you did say that, to ask you to wait where you are so I can meet you and escort you in.”

Brienne sighed and rolled her eyes but supposed it probably wasn’t a terrible idea. “I’m at the coffee place round the corner, as it happens. The drive in.”

“Great! Wait there and I’ll come and meet you in the town car.”

“The town car? A Lannister town car?”

“Tyrion says-” Pod started again.

Brienne cut him off. “Yes, yes. Just get here, Pod.”

Brienne had to give it to Poderick Payne, the lad could be remarkably efficient when he wanted to be. He was there no more than five minutes later with his boss’s car. Brienne parked up and allowed herself to be ushered into the back of Pod’s car where, to her surprise, Tyrion himself was waiting.

“Tyrion?”

“Good morning, Brienne.” Tyrion forced a false smile onto his face. “Jaime is out of surgery and in recovery. I am told his injuries are serious but not life threatening with the proper medical care. They’re still on the look out for any potential internal bleeding but the Doctors are hopeful.”

“That’s…that’s good. Have you seen him?”

“Not since he got out of surgery. I’m sure the Doctors will update you in full as his fiance. Talking of which, I have something to give you. I’m sorry it couldn’t be Jaime but our Father has passed this along with his best wishes. He tells me he would like you to have it.”

“Your father?”

“Tywin Lannister? Sociopath and professional asshole, I’m sure you’ve met,” Tyrion continued and then waved at Pod who fumbled and handed something over to Tyrion. A small velvet box. “It’s to give the proper impression, you understand, though I am to tell you that you may keep it for the duration of the marriage should you so wish. In the event that you and Jaime divorce, it is requested that you return the ring to the Lannister family.”

Brienne stared curiously at the box. “Of course. Can I…?”

“Oh, yes!” Tyrion realised he had yet to actually show Brienne the ring and promptly opened the box. Inside was a beautiful engagement ring of old gold, the old sort of yellow gold that shone from the inside out and a single, precious diamond.

“It looks old.”

“I’m told it was my mother’s, handed down through her branch of the family, I believe. It’s a strange thought, since I’ve never seen it before.”

Brienne was surprised at that.

“She died when I was born. Father is rather protective of her memory.”

Brienne could not help but be moved. It was simple and tasteful. Expensive, but elegant and much different from the typical ostentatious wealth on show that Brienne had become used to the Lannister’s displaying. She carefully took it out and placed it on her finger. “You’ve had it sized?”

“It wasn’t easy tracking down the Tarth family jewellers at five o’clock in the morning but apparently you were engaged before?” Tyrion raised his eyebrows.

“I…my father…it was arranged.” Brienne explained. “We didn’t get on and the engagement was broken.”

Tyrion’s mismatched eyes were rather unnerving when they delved deep inside you but Brienne tore her gaze away to stare once more at the ring. “Yes, well. Given how much of an ass my brother can be and you’re actually marrying him, I can only imagine what sort of prick they managed to roll out for your benefit the first time around.”

“Father meant well,” Brienne insisted quietly.

A quiet smile crossed Tyrion’s features, a sensitivity that she was sure he did not often display. “I don’t doubt it, Miss Tarth.” Tyrion looked Brienne over. She was wearing the formal trousers and blouse she would have worn to work that day. It would do. No make up, but that could be forgiven in the circumstances.

“How are the children?” Brienne asked quietly.

“Which children?”

“Tommen. Myrcella.”

“Safe. I spoke to Myrcella myself early this morning in the hopes of reaching her before the news broke. Tommen is confused and distraught but he has never liked upset or violence. A Lannister who doesn’t like violence, I can only imagine, must take after Tytos.”

Brienne wanted to know more, wanted to offer to be there for them on Jaime’s behalf but she reminded herself it was better not to upset the apple cart. Her morning sickness was worse this morning, which was little surprise after the events and stress of the night before.

As soon as they pulled into the hospital, the car was surrounded by reporters, photographers and the broadcast media. The driver pulled up at the entrance, as close as was possible, and came around to open the door. Tyrion put his hand on it, pausing the driver for a few seconds.

“Brienne, you understand that by opening this door, you are announcing your engagement to the world, don’t you? And everything that goes with it – the lies, the abuse, the mistreatment. They will not be kind to you.” Brienne stared defiantly back and Tyrion sank into his seat. He nodded once. “Pod will go with you.”

He watched them go, watch the crowd of reporters flock around this strange, plain, tall woman who arrived in a Lannister town car and then the shout went up. Watched Brienne carve her way through them, flashing the ring.

“She’s wearing a ring!”

“That’s Joanna Lannister’s ring!”

With great determination Pod helped push through the throng and then as soon as Brienne was inside turned around to announce there would be no announcements at this time.

Brienne put the reporters out of her mind. She couldn’t think, right now, about the fact that her ugly face – she knew she was ugly – was about to be plastered all over every television screen on both sides of the narrow sea. Her buck teeth that would have resulted in braces, had Tarth had such a thing as an orthodontist. Her wide mouth and broken nose from a fencing accident one time. No, as much as one little corner of her mind couldn’t let go, Brienne had no time to linger on such thoughts. She found the reception desk and explained she was here to see her fiance, Jaime Lannister, and brought out her driver’s license as ID. She could only imagine how many pretty young women they must have had to deal with, pretending to be Jaime’s girlfriend. Brienne could currently see at least three of them lurking by the public telephones.

“Of course, Miss Tarth. Mister Tyrion Lannister mentioned you were expected to visit. If you could hold on for a moment, we’ll have someone straight down to meet you.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Brienne protested. Really, she didn’t want to cause any more fuss than she already had. But the woman insisted and Brienne sat in one of the plain plastic chairs while everyone else in the vicinity pretended that they weren’t watching her. It wasn’t long before a woman in a suit with a Volantis accent came and shook her hand and introduced herself as a senior member of the hospital management. Brienne followed the woman through a series of corridors, doors and lifts until they arrived outside a small, four bed ward where Jaime was currently recovering from the general anaesthetic he had received for his operation. In turn she was introduced to a nurse who agreed to go and fetch the Doctor and asked Brienne to wait in the family room down the hall.

It was ten or fifteen minutes before a quiet man of average height and greying dark hair walked into the room and introduced himself as Mister Qyburn.

“Mister Qyburn. Shouldn’t Jaime be seen by a Doctor?”

“The custom here is to refer to surgeons with the title of Mister, Miss Tarth. I operated on your fiance. His brother agreed we could share any information with you that would normally be shared with the family so I am here to update you.”

“Of course. Thank you. How is he?”

“He is in recovery, Miss Tarth, and all things considered, he is as good as can be expected in the circumstances. I’m afraid, it will be something of an adjustment for Jaime.” Qyburn tilted his head in an apologetic manner. “I am told you saw the nature of his injuries before he came in?”

“Yes. It…it looked serious.”

“It was. There is no gentle way of saying this, Miss Tarth, but I must make you aware that we were forced to amputate. The damage to his hand was too extensive. It was crushed beyond repair.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Amputation?”

“His right hand, yes. There was simply no alternative in the circumstances. His other injuries – contusions and suchlike are superficial and will heal with time. Jaime will need your support, Miss Tarth, as he continues to recover.”

 

Brienne tiptoed into the room as soon as she was allowed to see him. Jaime was bleary, drugged up and incoherent. She went to his bedside and took his left hand, looking at the right stump, swaddled in extensive bandages.

“Jaime? It’s Brienne.”

“Bree….?” Jaime struggled to open his eyes. “Tired.”

“I know. Focus on resting, Jaime.” Brienne wondered if she should be doing something else. Stroking his hair. Wasn’t that what people did? Hold hands? Offer comfort? Bring grapes?

“I brought some things from my apartment. I realise they’re not yours but they’ll do until Tyrion can get into your place.”

Jaime clutched her hand and stared into space. Simply staying conscious seemed to use up most of his energy.

Brienne watched him with concern. “Why don’t you have a drink and then go back to sleep?”

“Stay?”

Brienne hesitated, still not sure it was her place. Tywin, Tyrion and Pod all knew this was a sham, just for show. Was it really her place? But if Jaime wanted her here she would stay. If nothing else, they were friends and none of the nurses or staff knew she was little more than an interloper. “Of course I’ll stay,” Brienne said firmly, holding his hand between her own.

Jaime drifted back off to sleep for a while. The staff allowed her to stay, so long as she was quiet. With little else to do other than read, which she had always been a little slow at, Brienne took to fussing over him. Refilling his juice. Adjusting his blankets. The second time he woke, Brienne’s eyes were the first thing he saw and he stared at her for a long time, a placid, exhausted look in his eye. Finally Brienne whispered a quiet, “Hello, Jaime.”

“Hi,” Jaime whispered back his voice hoarse.

Brienne waited, seeing in his eyes his struggle to figure out where he was, the remembrances of the night before that came to him as he awoke. “You’re in hospital,” Brienne said finally. “You were assaulted.”

“Kettleblack,” Jaime whispered. “He had another. The Goat.”

“The police will want to speak to you, when you’re well. Jaime, there’s something else.”

“The twins?”

“Are fine,” Brienne said, but her eyes were hesitant and when they flickered down Jaime’s eyes followed and he saw.

A scream of horror filled the air. Nurses and orderlies came rushing. Brienne was pushed out the way as Jaime struggled until finally the put a needle in his arm with something to calm him down.

The third time Jaime awoke it was evening. He was silent and sullen and wouldn’t meet her eye. Brienne ignored him, poured him juice and cut up his sandwiches and jelly. “You can sulk all night once I’m gone but you need to eat something and I’m going to sit here until you do,” Brienne insisted.

Begrudgingly, Jaime forced down two triangle sandwiches and a few mouthfuls of jelly. He grumbled that the catheter was uncomfortable and Brienne went to fetch the nurse who checked with the doctor and agreed it could be removed.

Brienne had never heard the noise that came out of Jaime’s mouth when that happened but he seemed less uncomfortable afterwards, though still sullen and withdrawn. Brienne handed over the picture of the twins she carried with her and kissed him on the forehead when it was time to go, a show of affection for the nurses. Jaime reached out and clutched her hand.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Brienne promised. “Your father’s given me time off work.”

Jaime’s hand explored Brienne’s and found the ring. He said nothing, but his fingers toyed with it.

“Your father’s idea. For the cameras.”

“It suits you,” Jaime said quietly. “Do you know, I can still feel it? My hand?”

“The Doctors said that could happen.”

“What’s going to happen to Cersei?”

“She’s been arrested, along with the Kettleblacks. Tommen is with your father and Tyrion is keeping in touch with Myrcella in Dorne.”

Jaime’s features darkened, his beautiful face twisting into scornful hatred and anger as he thought of the events of the night before. Brienne still didn’t know the full story yet, but she could only guess what had happened between Jaime and his sister. “Why do I love a hateful woman?”

“She’s your Sister, Jaime.”

“Did you love Renly?”

Brienne looked down at their hands, unable to look him in the eye for fear of his judgement. “I did. You know I did.”

“I suppose, we can’t always help who we love,” Jaime pondered quietly. There were three other people in other beds listening to them. Jaime had ignored them all day but now Brienne was only too conscious of them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Brienne nodded, squeezed his hand once more and then walked away, their hands tingling with sensation long after they had parted.

In one of the other beds, Jaime’s ward-mate grumbled. “All that time mooning over each other and she doesn’t even kiss him good night.”

Jaime was in too dark a place to even mind.

 

Brienne endured the throngs of reporters that night and the next day. When Brienne’s obstetrician got in touch, he was concerned about the potential for high blood pressure and arranged for Brienne to be checked for hypertension while she was visiting King’s Landing University Hospital to visit Jaime. He had slept fitfully, but the combination of the lingering effects of the anaesthetic and the heat of the hospital made Jaime tired and exhausted. He said little, but spent long hours staring into space. When he got hold of Brienne’s hand he wouldn’t let it go and Brienne would whisper with him quietly, reasoning with him to eat, drink juice, or helping him to the bathroom.

Later that day, with Jaime’s continued recovery, he was moved to The Sept in an ambulance parked outside a back door fire escape to avoid the press.

As Brienne followed in her own car, she listened to Tyrion on the radio deal with that day’s press conference. Brienne struggled to believe, coseted up inside the warm protection of the hospital that such a thing was even necessary but then, she remembered, this was The Lannisters.

_“Due to speculation, I can confirm the existence of an engagement between my brother, Jaime Lannister of Casterley Rock and The Evenstar, Lady Brienne of Tarth.”_

_“Why was the announcement not made before?”_

_“Lady Tarth’s father, Lord Selwyn Tarth, passed away some five months ago. It was felt more appropriate to wait until the traditional mourning period of six months was over, however events have precipitated that.”_

Brienne had agreed to Tyrion’s suggestion. She was surprised by the way the press hung onto Tyrion’s every word. 

_“My niece, Myrcella Baratheon and my nephew, Tommen Baratheon are safe and well in the care of family and friends; my sister Cersei Lannister is currently undergoing a psychiatric assessment. There has been private concern for some time about Cersei’s erratic behaviour and it seems my brother’s attempts to get her help turned south in a way none of us could have anticipated.”_

So that was the cover story they had come up with. Brienne supposed it read better than incest and domestic violence, though Brienne had little doubt that Cersei was dangerous and, yes, potentially unwell. It was also possible, however, that she was perfectly sane. Brienne didn’t know which outcome was scarier and she already worried that Jaime was starting to forgive the woman, if that was even possible.

‘Maybe she didn’t mean it,’ Jaime had whispered to her today. Brienne wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or her.

Brienne could only hope that Jaime would trust her with the full story. As it was, she had had her blood pressure checked and been told it was a little high. At home she took the phone off the hook and accepted a burner phone from Tyrion that Pod ran over for communication between the family.

The thought struck Brienne, as she was preparing for bed that night, that she was now family. Lannister family. What had started out as a simple pragmatism had turned into an arranged marriage. Yet Brienne was under no illusions as to what existed between her and Jaime. Jaime had accepted her as a friend, as friends they had agreed to go along with things for the sake of the children. Brienne turned up at the hospital each day to sit with Jaime, feed him and read to him. She heeded Tyrion’s pleas to look after herself and spent long hours with her feet up, gorging herself when she felt hungry on whatever bizzare food her body felt cravings for this time.

Poor Pod had turned from the office teaboy into Brienne’s personal assistant and Bronn seemed to be being left to handle everything by himself, a situation that Brienne knew it was less than ideal. But matters could not be helped. After the first few days Brienne at least took the effort to swing by the office between visiting hours and try and help Bronn through the work.

Two weeks after The Incident, as it was becoming known, Brienne received the news from Tyrion that Jaime’s health was considered good enough for him to be cared for at home.

“Ok, I’ll pack a bag.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short note on this chapter. When writing this it was in my mind that there is something of a sterotype of the 'mad woman' along the lines of Jane Eyre with the mad woman in the attic or the 'hysterical woman' who over reacts to everything. I personally think Cersei is entirely sane, but that Tywin is savvy enough to play into the stereotype by having Cersei portrayed as insane and a bit like One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest, once in that environment her behaviour is difficult enough that it would probably not go down well. What's more, in order to be tried for the assault, Cersei would have to be capax - mentally fit to stand trial. So by having Cersei committed for psychiatric assessment, Tywin's aim is to kill two birds with one stone. Cersei gets her punishment for hurting Tywin's heir, she is unable to cause further hurt to Jaime or Brienne or their unborn children and the Lannister family's dirty laundry gets kept out of any court room.


	23. Chapter 23

“You will do no such thing because, as an unmarried couple, you cannot be seen to be living together.”

For some reason Tyrion seemed to have taken up residence in Jaime’s office in his absence. Brienne had no particular objection to Jaime’s brother, in fact she found him one of the least disagreeable members in the whole family, but he had some old, absurd ideas that were part and parcel of the whole reason Brienne had resolved never to become entangled in the whole matter of families, marriage and settling.

“I’m the closest thing he has to a friend, right now, and I am also carrying his children.”

“Yes but the world doesn’t know that,” Tyrion hissed.

“So tell them.”

“That would not be wise.”

“Fine then, I’ll tell them!”

“Brienne…” Tyrion sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“I will pick him up tomorrow to go home, I will hold his hand like the dutiful fiance and I will ask for space. A Lannister town car will meet us and I will need a key to his apartment.”

Tyrion blinked. “Just like that? There are many people who will judge you harshly for bearing children out of wedlock, Brienne.”

“I’m quite happy carrying bastards, Tyrion. It’s not the War of the Five Kings anymore and even then, bastards were naturalised and inherited, they ascended to important positions on the Night’s Watch and the Iron Throne. The marriage has already been postponed because of Jaime’s accident. I’m in my fourth month, Tyrion. How much longer do you think we can hide this?”

Brienne knew she had Tyrion’s agreement when he presented her with a credit card. “You’ve been trudging in and out of that hospital for weeks looking like the harried fiance. I suggest a professional hair salon, a new bra and high end designer clothes. You might be happy looking like a farm girl from Tarth but at least occasionally we have to put forth a different image.”

Brienne managed to avoid slapping him as she politely turned him down and informed Tyrion the press could take her as they found her. Brienne would take no instructions from Tyrion about PR when he had been seen at every sauna in King’s Landing over the years. That evening after an afternoon at her desk, Brienne forced herself to push through the pregnancy exhaustion and make her way to The Sept for visiting hours one last time before Jaime was discharged. Jaime’s was still quiet and morose, though a little better when she was there. He at least responded to her, ate something and drank more water. He clung to the picture of the twins, not letting it out of his sight even to go to the toilet. With a little – somewhat begrudging help – from Jaime, Brienne put together a short statement.

The following morning, Jaime’s best suit was brought in from his apartment. He dressed in formal trousers, a waistcoat and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up inside the sling that covered most of his arm and hid the stump from public view. There was, Jaime said, no point disguising it.

Brienne thought, sometimes, that he was almost searching out disgust and disapproval. His atttitude had hinted often enough at the prospect that he felt that very way about himself, as something less than whole without one hand. Attempts had been made to refer him to rehabilitation services and post-amputation specialists including prosthesis manufacturers but Jaime displayed little interest.

Still, he dressed, sometimes with Brienne’s help. But even when slow he preferred to do it himself. His shoe laces, he eventually gave up on and Brienne tied them for him. The buttons took an age. The fly, Brienne had to zip with her face covered in a crimson blush.

Jaime seemed unperturbed, staring the same thousand yard stare he had been wearing since The Incident. Initially Brienne had thought it was because of the effects of the anaesthetic but now she wasn’t so sure and he still, according to the nurses, had terrible phantom pains in the night that left him screaming in pain.

Brienne, dressed in jeans – which were beginning not to fit her – and a loose fitting blouse. She tried to remember all the elements of poise she had been educated in once upon a time and subsequently, had deliberately forgotten. Designer handbag held just so. Bangle. Engagement ring. Watch. Sunglasses.

At the door to The Sept, Brienne paused. Tyrion had arranged a small lecturn around which were clustered dozens of microphones.

Brienne turned to Jaime. “Jaime? Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“No,” Jaime shrugged.

Brienne’s face betrayed all the concern for him she had been growing towards throughout his time in hospital. She couldn’t rightly describe what he was to her right now. Friend, yes. Colleague. And yet something more.

Jaime looked up at her. “I haven’t thank you, yet.”

“Thanked me for what?”

“For being there,” Jaime said quietly. “Will you hold my hand?”

Brienne stared into Jaime’s eyes for a long moment before sliding her hand into his and together, as friends, they walked out into the waiting throng.

 

In his office at Lannister Corporation, Tywin Lannister watched his newest protege with admiration.

 _“My fiance and I would like to thank all of the many well wishers who have wished Jaime a speedy recovery. He will now undergo a period of rest and rehabilitation.”_ Beside Brienne, Jaime cleared his throat softly. Brienne looked at him.

Rather than calming down the atmosphere, however, the crowd of baying reporters started demanding a kiss. Jaime nudged his head towards the waiting crowd of reporters. With a slightly terrified nod, Brienne stepped towards him. She had thought, after his morose attitude for the last fortnight, that he would not be up to public appearances, preferring to look handsome and brooding which seem to be something of a specialisation currently. But Jaime knew how to deal with this better than she did and Brienne had hardly been able to get through the short sentence she and Tyrion and pre-prepared. She looked into his eyes.

In front of them, the media descended into chaos. A wall of noise, shouting questions, and scrambling for position on the other side of the podium was ignored by the pair as Jaime turned to Brienne, who could already feel herself blushing. The smug look that Brienne could see in Jaime’s eye was the first lightness or joy she had seen in him since The Incident. If he got this smug over faking it to the press, Brienne wasn’t sure how she was going to stand being married to him, even only for a short while. She turned to him and Jaime nudged her chin with his nose. Slightly terrified, Brienne realised what he wanted and leaned down. Warm, soft lips pressed against hers for the briefest of moments. Every camera for a hundred miles seemed to go off until Jaime pulled away and led Brienne through the throng to the waiting car.

As soon as they were in the car, Brienne seemed to grow even more anxious than she had already been in front of the press. “I’m not sure this is the right time to make the announcement about the twins,” Brienne said carefully.

“Is there a right time?” Jaime sighed. “This is only happening because you’re marrying me, you know.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to, just because my father asked.”

“I have my own reasons,” Brienne told him quietly. The potential investment in Tarth was nothing to be sniffed at and the idea that Lannister Corp. would consider investing in her little island meant more than they could possibly know.

Jaime simply nodded. “I will always make sure you and the children are taken care of, you know that.”

Brienne looked away from him out the window. She wondered if Myrcella and Tommen knew. Someone should tell them before any public announcement. Brienne’s hand, unthinkingly, went to her stomach.

Jaime’s eyes looked down on his hand, or where his hand should be. He still felt a huge emptiness at it’s loss, like a part of him was missing. Which it was, he supposed. “I’m not sure I can stand the thought of the wedding Father must be planning.”

“We could always elope,” Brienne joked. Though it was only half a joke. The thought of heading north on their own and finding a Weirwood tree was getting more appealing by the day. “People would call it romantic.”

Jaime looked up, with interest. “I’m supposed to be resting.”

“Will you feel any better sitting at home staring at four walls without a hand compared with trekking through the woods at Winterfell without a hand?”

“Winterfell?” Jaime frowned. There was no love lost between the Lannisters and the Starks, not after the events of a few short months ago. Yet Jaime knew Brienne and Sansa were close, in their own way.

“I could speak to Sansa,” Brienne offered.

Jaime pondered the thought. “I suppose it might build a few bridges, in the long run. And it is one of the few places with an ancient weirwood tree left.”

Brienne and Jaime’s eyes met.

“I suppose,” Jaime continued, “If we are being forced into an arranged marriage for the sake of propriety, we might as well do it on our own terms.”

Brienne bit her lip. She had known all along it would be arranged, had known Jaime’s heart lay elsewhere, but she had not anticipated things would become quite so complicated. “What about Cersei?” Brienne whispered.

In an instant, Jaime’s face closed down. His emotions shut off.

“You love her, Jaime,” Brienne pushed. “In spite of everything you love her still, I know you do.”

Jaime could not help but nod. “You’re right. I do. I think a part of me always will,” Jaime said quietly, “But she has made her choice,” Jaime lifted his stump, limply. The bandages had been changed regularly, the blood loss had reduced and it was beginning to heal. Physically. The mental scars, Brienne knew, would take a lot longer to mend. Tentatively Jaime’s left hand reached out and took Brienne’s right. “She has made her choice, and I have made mine. I want to be a husband, and a father in whatever way you’ll let me.”

Brienne felt her face redden but she could not help but be moved by Jaime’s words. She wanted to point out he was already a father, that he could marry any woman in Westeros, that a pragmatic arrangement to prevent the extinction of her house was not something to warrant a man of Jaime’s looks, wealth and talent tying himself down to an uncommonly plain woman from a lesser house who was nearly twenty years his junior. But he looked so earnest in that moment, after weeks of fragile and morose moodswings, that Brienne allowed him his moment and turned her hand over in his to let their palms sit together. Quietly, she nodded.

“Winterfell, then?” Jaime asked.

“Tommen,” Brienne said softly. “You should see Tommen first. Then Winterfell.”

With a feeling of foreboding, Jaime knew she was right.


	24. Chapter 24

Tommen Baratheon was a quiet, shy boy of a nervous disposition. He had been bullied often by his elder brother, while he lived, and boys at school. He was bookish and hated violence, preferring to spend his spare time looking after a small menagerie of animals and watching nature documentaries. Nothing was more interesting to him than an afternoon spent chasing butterflies or collecting frogspawn. As he sat in his Uncle Tyrion’s office, Tommen glanced frequently up at the posters of dragons that his mother’s brother had hung from his walls.

“May I visit Uncle Jaime today?” Tommen asked quietly. He had remembered what his mother had done, the way she had shrieked and lashed out when Uncle Jaime had come to visit to tell her of his plans to marry the woman mother referred to only as The Cow. Tommen had always thought Brienne seemed like rather a nice person, although he did not know her well. But now she was to be his new aunt and Tommen thought that he would like to know Lady Brienne better.

As it happened, Tommen’s wish came sooner than he hoped. His mother and his Uncle Jaime had similar apartments in the Lannister family apartment block. Tyrion had taken him home for some clean clothes and just as the lift doors opened onto the lobby floor, Uncle Jaime arrived with Lady Brienne. Uncle Jaime’s arm was all bandaged up and hidden inside a sling. He looked tired, but better than Tommen would have thought for someone who’d been beaten up and had their hand chopped off. Tommen knew well enough from years of torment at his brothers hands how being beat up felt. Tommen didn’t like it when Mother was nasty to her brothers but he had long since learned it was best to stay quiet, comply and not draw attention to yourself. Tommen had hoped to visit Uncle Jaime in hospital but Grandfather Tywin advised it was not for the best with so many press at the door. Now he was here and Tommen found himself looking over Uncle Jaime, worriedly, counting the injuries.

“Uncle Jaime?”

“Tommen,” Jaime breathed. He stared at the boy for a long moment and then reached out and put his hand on Tommen’s shoulder. When Jaime made contact, Tommen came closer and pressed himself against Jaime’s body for a hug. Jaime carefully moved his stump out of the way of contact and held Tommen with his left arm. Jaime’s eyes went to Brienne in wide-eyed astonishment.

In return, Brienne gave Jaime a small, approving nod.

“Uncle Tyrion, can I stay with Uncle Jaime for a while?”

Tyrion shrugged and looked at Brienne and Jaime. “I don’t know. Can he?”

Brienne held Jaime’s apartment key and opened the door. “You know you are always welcome, Tommen. And since you probably know your way around better than I do, you can help me cook dinner.”

An expression of mild alarm crossed Tommen’s face.

“I…I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t cook,” Tommen replied.

“Neither can Brienne,” Jaime muttered.

“Coming from the man who spent the last two weeks eating hospital food, that’s fighting talk, Lannister.”

“Says the woman who eats dried fish.”

“It’s smoked fish and it’s a traditional food on Tarth.”

“I’m just saying. Would it kill you to eat a little, I don’t know – venison – from time to time?”

“I don’t know, Jaime. You seem to be the expert at this thing. You tell me.”

Tommen wasn’t sure whether to be a little worried, at first, at the way that Uncle Jaime and Lady Brienne spoke to each other…but as soon as Lady Brienne stopped and Uncle Jaime became quiet and distant, Tommen understood what she was doing. Uncle Jaime liked nothing better than making japes. Lady Brienne was making japes with Uncle Jaime to cheer him up.

Tommen thought that maybe he could help with that, even though he wasn’t very good at making japes.

Once the lift arrived, Tyrion let the three disappear into Jaime’s apartment and waited until the door swung closed. He could have invited himself along, he was sure, but after days of caring for his nephew, Tyrion had an appointment at a high end King’s Landing brothel and he had no intentions of being disturbed for at least a couple of hours.

If there was an emergency, doubtless Brienne would call him.

 

Upon entering Jaime Lannister’s exclusive Red Tower apartment for the first time, Brienne was surprised, initially, by the size. His door opened up into a living room with an open plan kitchen that, in that single room, was more than double the floor size of her entire apartment. She had never yet dared venture here, even since the public declaration of their engagement, instead allowing Tyrion to fetch anything Jaime required that she could not bring herself or buy. The truth was, Brienne had not been sure if she would be welcome and, she had thought, it was probably a space he shared with Cersei. Instead, Brienne was surprised to find quite the opposite. There was no woman’s touch here, it was a bachelor pad to the bone. An expensive one, with expensive taste. Marble. Teak. Fabrics on the soft furnishings and that would have cost months of Brienne’s earnings. Expensive Braavosi restaurant menus sat by the phone at the door.

 

Jaime gave Brienne the tour while Tommen put the television on. Master bedroom, with a King size double. Spare room with twin beds. Bathroom with an extra door to the master bedroom. Living room with the adjacent, open-plan kitchen. An office, barely used, was the most modestly sized of the rooms and appeared to be the place he coveted illustrated posters of medieval weaponry. In the kitchen the refrigerator had been filled with lean meats and fresh vegetables. A smoothie maker sat by the coffee machine along with a large bowl of fresh fruit. There was also, Jaime told her, a gym in the basement which complemented the gym at Lannister Corporation and Brienne was told she should feel free to use it. There was also a laundry service, shoe shining and someone to pick up any dry cleaning and return it once done.

Brienne’s eye wandered to Tommen, sitting on the sofa, probably listening to every word they said and she was unsure how much of a show they had to put on for his benefit.

“I’m sorry I never brought you here before. I was worried about how Cersei would react.”

“I understand. Besides,” Brienne pointed out deadpan, “You seem to have a particular attachment to my sofa.”

“And the thought of spending my entire convalesence on your living room sofa, is precisely why were are here, Tarth. Lannisters be damned. Just try not to get stabbed or poisoned or something, won’t you?”

Brienne stilled. Her eyes became wary, before she discarded the thought and looked into the fridge. “What are the chances of being poisoned by whoever filled the fridge.”

“Well it was Tyrion so, I’d say, at least twenty five percent. Did he get the steaks I asked for?”

“How are you going to eat stake?” Brienne asked.

Jaime shrugged. “I felt like steak. Steak and salad and those little baby potatoes with lots of butter and herbs. You know,” Jaime pondered, “I still don’t know how you like steak, Tarth.”

Brienne blinked. “Blue.”

 

Some time later, around the dinner table, Jaime and Tommen sat watching Brienne with identical expressions.

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Jaime muttered. It looked barely cooked, hardly a step up from eating raw meat. First Brienne had made him take his meds and now she was making him watch her eat…that. He struggled on through trying to cut his own, which Jaime was sure Brienne had cooked just on the rubber side of ‘well done’ just to spite him. He had insisted he could manage himself, but every time the squeaking on his plate got too annoying Brienne’s fork came plunging down to stab into his steak and Jaime would send her a grateful nod.

 

“Is it true you’re going to marry Uncle Jaime, Lady Brienne?”

“I am. And thank you for helping with the salad, Tommen,” Brienne said graciously. Usually she ate alone and shovelled food down her throat as quickly as she liked. For Tommen’s benefit, however, she made a point of remembering her etiquette, something that seemed to amuse Jaime who had eaten with her more than once. Brienne thought, at least, it was better to amuse him than to have him silent and sullen.

“Tommen,” Jaime said quietly, “Thank you for coming over tonight.”

Tommen shrugged. “It’s weird with Mother being gone and Myrcella being gone.”

Jaime paused in eating and glanced at Brienne. This was verging on a father conversation, something Jaime was completely unprepared for and had little idea how to do. “I know it’s hard, Tommen, but you have your whole family around you.”

“No, I don’t!” Tommen slammed down his cutlery.

“Tommen, I…I know all of this must be very confusing for you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been there as much as I should have. Your mother’s behaviour has been difficult for some time and no one wanted you to get caught in the middle of it.”

Brienne paused, wondering if that was all Jaime had to say. He wasn’t in a good place himself just now but it wasn’t Tommen’s fault he had been so isolated. “I’m sure, if it would help, we can arrange for you to talk to your sister in Dorne.”

Tommen’s eyes lit up and Brienne smiled kindly.

Around the table, Jaime looked at his son. His son who looked so like him. “Of course you can, Tommen.” Tears welled in Jaime’s eyes and he put down his cutlery and then got up, came over to Tommen and kneeled down for a hug. After a long moment Jaime got up ruffling Tommen’s hair as he walked past to the bathroom with a muttered, “Excuse Me.”

Brienne could hear the sniffles, but decided to stay with Tommen and let Jaime have his tears. She had not known, when they started this, how hard it would be for him. How much he endured.

“Will Uncle Jaime be ok?” Tommen sounded scared and no one could blame the boy but Tommen wasn’t quite done. “Is he sad about Mother?”

“I think he’s sad about lots of things,” Brienne replied carefully. “But I do know it would make him feel better if he could get to know you a little better. He would like to get to know you better, and so would I.” Brienne said. She wasn’t very good at smiling, never had been, but tried to look supportive.

Tommen took a bite of potato. “Why did Uncle Jaime and mother fight? Was she jealous of you? Mother always likes to have all of his attention.”

“Something like that,” Brienne hedged.

Tommen glanced from his plate to the hallway where Jaime had disappeared, but when Jaime appeared a few minutes later he seemed calm and thoughtful and a little bit wary.

“I know what we all need,” Brienne announced. “After dinner, let’s make a Blanket Fort!”

Tommen looked up at her curiously. “What’s a Blanket Fort?”


	25. Chapter 25

“Alright, we need pillows.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Duvet.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Mattress.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Clothes pegs.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Duct tape.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Bedsheets.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Tommen’s favourite quilt.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Blankets.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Cuddly toys.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Dining chairs.”

 

“Check.”

 

“Fairy lights.”

 

“Nuh-uh.” Tommen looked up from his home made list. “Uncle Jaime do you have fairy lights?”

 

From his position on the sofa, Jaime watched the impressive spectacle of Brienne organise the building of what she insisted was called a blanket fort. Jaime had never encountered such a thing, but had tentatively agreed to it’s construction – before Brienne tore his apartment to pieces in search of supplies. He might have had to give up his mattress, pillows, dining chair and bedlinen to the effort, but he was amused by Brienne’s creative ability to produce food and shelter almost anywhere she went. Maybe it was an island thing?

 

“Nope. Why don’t I call Pod and have him bring some over.”

 

“Because Pod probably has a life,” Brienne retorted.

 

“Pod has nothing to do at the office all day but eat cakes with Bronn and gossip. He can take twenty minutes out of his evening to run by a hardware store. If Brienne says our blanket fort needs lights, our blanket fort is going to have lights,” Jaime insisted.

 

Tommen’s grin was worth the awkward phonecall to their office tea boy for when Jaime called him, Poderick Payne seemed rather confused. “Fairy lights, Mister Lannister?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

“At your apartment,” Pod repeated, for clarity.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“For…for a blanket fort?” Jaime winced to himself. Why couldn’t he come up with something better on the spot? But to Jaime’s astonishment it seemed to be the right thing to say.

 

“Say no more, Mister Lannister. Do you have chocolate? Marshmallows?”

 

“Chocolate? Why would we need chocolate for a blanket fort?”

 

“Hold on, Mister Lannister. I can see this is an emergency. I’ll be right over!”

 

 

On Jaime’s living room floor was the biggest pile of bedding and pillows he had ever seen, along with things raided from Tommen’s bedroom in Cersei’s apartment like his favourite soft toys and books. He watched as Brienne and Tommen rearranged the dining table, the chairs and the sofa. Used clothes pegs to hold blankets and bedlinen together and drape it over and slowly, the fort began to take shape. Jaime found himself joining in, moving a chair here or holding two sheets together with his left hand so Tommen could peg them together. He knew Brienne would have questions, they hadn’t talked about that night, about what had happened with Cersei and Osmund Kettleblack. In his mind, Jaime could still see Cersei turning her back, even knowing what was about to happen.

 

She wanted to hurt him.

 

Everything Jaime thought he knew about her shattered, and sooner or later Tommen was going to have to go home to that woman. A woman he could no longer be with. He  couldn’t be with someone like that, he knew that now. Not because Cersei was his sister, because of what she was in her head. Because of what she was like and more than he loved her, Jaime knew he could no longer live like that. Jaime wanted to protect Tommen, too. Give him something else.

 

No wonder Myrcella wanted to leave, wanted to acknowledge him. He had always believed Cersei’s concerns about being discovered when she insisted Jaime should not visit at night. Now he wondered if there were other reasons. Ever since they were born, Jaime would have sworn by any holy book you gave him that Cersei would never hurt her own children, but there was a time he thought she would never hurt him either. Now, he didn’t know.

 

But he didn’t want to think about that any more. Tommen might not know the truth, but when the time was finally right to tell Tommen, Jaime wanted Tommen to know he had been there, as much as he could. Brienne was right, he didn’t need Cersei’s permission to love them.

 

“Alright, Tommen, what’s next?”

 

“We need to get the mattress in the fort and then the pillows and the cushions,” Tommen decided.

 

Somehow, even though Jaime only had one hand, he helped Tommen move the mattress under the sheets into the centre of the fort and then they helped Brienne finish fixing up the outside. Their construction was just about done when the doorbell rang and Tommen raced to let Poderick in so they could string the fairy lights up inside. Jaime listened to Pod compliment Tommen on the fort and start going through the blanket fort accessories with a serious eye – colouring pens, paper, Tommen’s favourite toys, his favourite book and, critically, Pod’s Essential Blanket Fort Snacks™.

 

While Pod was busy explaining the importance of sugar overload, Jaime found himself lying on the mattress inside, holding up lights while Brienne used more clothes pegs to attach them to the broom handle they were using for structure. He lay back on the pile of pillows and watched her lean over him. From where he lay, Jaime could just see the sneak peek of a her belly. The happy thought he allowed himself, of Brienne starting to show in a few weeks, lifted his spirits. Jaime could not deny there had been many moments in the last couple of weeks where he had felt devoid and empty. Nothing brought a little bit of light into his mind like the thought of Brienne and the twins. Jaime wished he could reach out and touch her. Hold her. He wished that was a thing between them. But if he couldn’t have that, he could have this.

 

“What are you staring at me for, Jaime?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

 

“No reason,” Jaime rested his stump on his chest and listened to the sound of Tommen babbling away to Pod. “Why don’t you come and lie down a while.”

 

Brienne turned, warily, to Jaime.

 

“Come on, I’m not gonna jump you. You made this, you should get a chance to enjoy it,” Jaime shrugged.

 

Brienne watched him and that odd soft look he had in his eye, like he’d had that night. Slowly she finished putting up the last of the lights and lay herself down amongst the pillows, a careful distance from Jaime.

 

“This is kinda cool,” Jaime said quietly. “This is going to be a thing. We are going to do this all the time. We are going to camp out on Tarth and have camp fires and blanket forts.”

 

“What if it rains?”

 

“We’ll improvise,” Jaime shrugged and then rolled onto his side to face her.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve never made a blanket fort,” Brienne rolled her eyes, trying to not to think about the way he was looking at her. It didn’t make any sense. Men like Jaime didn’t look at her like that. What they had was an arrangement, a convenient arrangement, a contract, for reasons of House, legacy and family.

 

“Brienne,” Jaime said quietly, “I just want to thank you. For this. For giving me tonight, this memory, with you and Tommen. It means a lot.”

 

Brienne looked out the door of their fort, where Tommen was gathering supplies from Pod. “I used to make them all the time as a kid. The world was so cruel, to a child like me. Tall. Ugly. Ungainly. Quiet. I used to live in it, I used to hide away.”

 

“The boys picked on you? Teased you? Tried to get in your pants?” Jaime asked.

 

“They tried,” Brienne gritted her teeth. She did not expect the warm chuckle that exuded out of Jaime’s mouth, his chest moving with the kindness of his laughter.

 

“That’s my Brienne,” Jaime said, laying back a little more. He turned towards her and took in the softness of her skin, the way her bosom had swelled and she had put on a few curves in certain places. He longed to put his hands there, to learn her body. He could, Jaime thought, grow to love being by her side. The moment lingered, Brienne staring back. Her head began to tilt down towards his…

 

Tommen came rushing into the tent and threw himself down on the mattress between them. “Uncle Jaime, I put my pyjamas on. Now you you have to read me a story.”

 

“Aren’t you a little old for bedtime stories?” Jaime asked. He looked at them, at this boy who was his son and this woman who was bearing him children and wondered if this was really happening. The joy Brienne had brought to his life, the license she had given him to cherish what he had when all Cersei had done in recent years was take and take and take and leave him hollow, pained and empty.

 

“You’re never too old for bedtime stories,” Brienne countered. “But first, Jaime has something to tell you.”

 

Tommen looked from Brienne to his Uncle Jaime.

 

Subtly, Brienne put a hand on her stomach, meaningfully.

 

“Well…the news is that Brienne’s pregnant, Tommen.”

 

Tommen’s eyes opened wide in wonder. “Really?”

 

Brienne nodded, “Twins.”

 

Tommen looked from one to the other, wondering if they were lying to him, winding him up, pulling his leg and then finally threw himself at Jaime, pressing himself against Jaime’s torso and burying his head in Jaime’s shoulder. Tentatively, Jaime brought his left arm up around Tommen and patted his back, all the time staring at Brienne and trying to hold himself together.

 

Tommen pulled back and grinned. “I’m going to be a brother!”


	26. Chapter 26

Jaime’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He could see Tommen’s face cross from joy to horror as he realised what he said without thinking. When he spoke, his voice fell to a whisper.

 

“Myrcella told me. When mother hurt you and I got scared and they took you to the hospital and they took mother away and everyone went away and I didn’t know what to do and I called Myrcella. I felt so alone, I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in the world and she said…she said…she said I wasn’t because I still had you and……she said Mother didn’t want us to know and I had to keep it a secret. Are you mad that I know?” Tommen’s lip quivered.

 

With shaking hands Jaime reached out to his son and slid his left hand in to cup Tommen’s neck. “No, Son. I’m not mad.” Heavy breaths heaved at Jaime’s chest. A tear traced down his face. “I’m not mad at all.”

 

“All I ever wanted, since I knew, was for you to call me son…” Tommen tailed off with a shrug. “I thought everyone had left me. I thought maybe I did something, I cried too much and I was too soft and-”

 

“No,” Jaime jumped in, “Never.”

 

“Myrcella said it had to be a secret,” Tommen continued.

 

Brienne looked at Jaime and saw how exhausted and overwhelmed he was by the evening’s events. Hoping she wasn’t overstepping the mark, Brienne cleared her throat quietly. “There are people who would hurt you, if they knew. It’s safer this way.”

 

Tommen seemed to think on this point. Brienne knew he had been bullied, it wasn’t easy being a Lannister and a younger brother. At length, he nodded and then lifted his book. Brienne couldn’t blame him for wanting to move on. “Can we read the story now?”

 

“Jaime?”

 

“I vote that the adult without dyslexia reads the bedtime story,” Jaime spoke up.

 

“Well, I vote that Jaime reads it, because Tommen asked you to, and he can help you when you get stuck.”

 

Jaime looked mildly terrified at the prospect. “Brienne…”

 

“It’s ok, Uncle Jaime,” Tommen insisted. “I’ll help.” He snuggled back against Jaime and propped the book up in his lap. Jaime reached around Tommen and grasped one side of the book. “If you’re sure?”

 

Brienne lay back, propped up on one arm and watched Jaime struggle through Tommen’s bed time story. By the time they got to the end of the chapter, Tommen was falling asleep and Brienne lay a blanket over him while Jaime extracted himself and walked Brienne to the door.

 

“You could stay over,” Jaime offered, a hint of hope in his voice.

 

“I think it's better if I don't,” Brienne shook her head. She looked away, and then at Jaime. “Will you be ok?”

 

“If I was on my own, I know what the answer would be. After tonight…” Jaime looked up at Brienne and smiled and met her eye. “Thank you.”

 

“For playing the dutiful fiancee?”

 

“I was panicking about telling the world, about coming home, about Tommen…and instead I got one of the best memories I’ve ever made, with my two favourite people, that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I think, right now, me and Tommen need each other and you found a way to let us have that.”

 

Brienne blinked, wide-eyed, stunned into silence. Not that it took much, she had never been the quickest with words. To get away from the intensity of the moment she looked around and surveyed the chaos. “We really did trash your apartment,” Brienne muttered. “Sometimes it helps to be doing something. To feel useful. Wanted.”

 

Jaime nodded. He could see that in Tommen tonight. “Then in the morning, Tommen can help look after me and I’ll help look after him. Let me walk you downstairs.”

 

“There’ll be press,” Brienne hesitated, as if she had only just realised this. “Do you really have to live with them following you like this? I had no idea.”

 

“Not usually. Only when I do something interesting. Come on, we can snog and give them fodder for tomorrow’s front pages.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare!” Brienne narrowed her eyes.

 

Jaime grinned, leaned in and pecked her on the cheek, as if teasing her would induce her to give in. “Oh, come on!” Jaime pleaded.

 

“You shouldn’t leave Tommen alone.”

 

“What sort of fiance would I be if I let you go to your car alone in the night?”

 

“The type who is more likely to end up injured than I am,” Brienne reminded him, pointing at his arm. “Go to bed, Jaime. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Reluctantly, Jaime stood in the doorway, watching as Brienne disappeared down the hall.

 

 

The following morning, Brienne turned up early at Jaime’s apartment. She was becoming a proficient at scything her way through the throng of media that now seemed to follow Jaime – and increasingly herself – wherever they went. Inside Tommen let her in and then went back to helping himself to cereal in Jaime’s kitchen, still dressed in pyjamas.

 

“Hey Brienne.”

 

“Hi Tommen. Where’s Jaime?” Brienne looked around.

 

“Oh, he’s still asleep in the blanket fort,” Tommen hopped up onto a stool at the breakfast bar and commenced eating, watching Brienne as she crept towards the blanket fort still taking up a considerable portion of Jaime Lannister’s living room.

 

Jaime Lannister was, indeed, still asleep in his blanket fort.

 

“I took a photo and sent it to Myrcella,” Tommen grinned.

 

Brienne bit back a laugh. Her laugh would loud, she knew, and she didn’t want to wake Jaime. She did, however, kneel down and have a good look at him, lying sound asleep in a pile of Tommen’s soft toys. “Well,” Brienne assessed, “He’s definitely fast asleep. Do you have school today?”

 

“I don’t go to school I get home schooled,” Tommen declared.

 

Brienne narrowed her eyes.

 

“It’s…a teacher training day.”

 

Brienne put her hands on her hips.

 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me go to school?”

 

“Jaime needs to sleep and I don’t even want to think about where your Uncle Tyrion is, so apparently I’m it.”

 

“But I hate school,” Tommen sighed into his breakfast cereal. “Everyone is mean to me.”

 

“Then tell anyone who bothers you that I’ll beat them up for you.”

 

Tommen perked up, “Cool! This is going to be so awesome! They keep showing that picture of you on Tarth in your historical costume thing with the sword. Everyone at school says you’re really scary.”

 

Brienne wondered if that was supposed to be some sort of compliment. “Well, I know a thing or two about kids being cruel. Finish your breakfast, then and go and get dressed. I’ll wake Jaime before we go.”

 

Brienne felt like having a cup of tea but Jaime didn’t have decaf, which was an oversight on Tyrion’s part considering he knew everything about her condition. Instead, she put on some coffee for Jaime and boiled some water for herself. There was a lemon in the fruit bowl and honey that Tommen had left out to top his cereal. Lemon and honey it was.

 

Just as Brienne was thinking about waking Jaime up, the smell of the coffee drifting into the blanket fort roused him. Brienne heard a groan first and then the movement of his feet as he stretched. He soon stumbled towards the kitchen, cradling his stump to his chest.

 

Brienne silently poured him coffee and slid it towards him across the breakfast bar.

 

“Gods, I love you,” Jaime muttered as he grasped the cup and pulled it towards him.

 

Brienne found herself amused at the way he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent blissfully. Remembering the prescription he had been sent home with, Brienne fetched the pills where they had been stashed in the bathroom medicine cabinet and presented two to him with a glass of water.

 

“Your bandages need changed but you’ll have to wait until I’ve taken Tommen to school.”

 

Jaime tilted his head and looked up at her. His hair was sticking out all over the place and he had stubble and looked, to Brienne, sexier than anyone had any right to look at this time in the morning. “Are we married already? Did I forget the wedding?”

 

“Very funny,” Brienne muttered. Her stomach began to rumble and to her surprise, Jaime got up, cradling his coffee cup and came around into the kitchen.

 

“How about some toast?” Jaime offered.

 

Brienne blinked.

 

“Hey, I might not be used to this one handed thing but I think I can still work a toaster.”

 

Slowly, Brienne nodded and sat herself down at the breakfast bar. With an air of determination that seemed new since last night, she watched him go about making toast. Fetching the bread, working the toaster, taking out the jam and butter one by one. He was slow, but patient and it was ready just as Tommen came in to complain he was struggling to tie his tie. He stood in front of them in his smart formal trousers and blazer with an air of exasperation.

 

It wasn’t long since he had graduated up to a new school and his school uniform had gone from a clip on tie to a tie-up tie. “Brienne, I can’t do my tie. Mother usually does it,” Tommen held up the the tie for emphasis.

 

Brienne looked from Tommen to Jaime. “Well he’s your son.“ Brienne told him.


	27. Chapter 27

Jaime grew very still for a long moment and Brienne knew, from the way they had grown closer over the last few months, that he was suppressing his emotions. She coul tell by the way he stared at her, his eyes boring into hers before he slowly raised his bandaged stump. Probably no one had ever said that to him before in his life.

 

But Brienne wasn’t letting him off that easily. “You lost a hand,” She said softly, “Not your brain. Tommen has two hands.”

 

“I…”

 

Brienne stared at him, unrelenting, as she spoke. “Tommen, Uncle Jaime will help you tie your tie.”

 

Jaime’s glare promised retribution, as if he was convinced he was going to do nothing but humiliate himself. Somewhat reluctantly, Jaime led Tommen into the master bedroom where there was a long mirror by the door for Jaime to check his appeareance before he left for work in the morning. Brienne could just about see, if she stood in the right spot, Jaime working out how to go about his task. Standing behind Tommen, he bid the boy put the tie behind his neck and adjust it so he had a long end and a short end. Jaime moved his right stump, mimicing the movement that was so familiar, that he would now be unable to do for himself.

 

“Ok, now first you cross the right end over the left and tuck it around…”

 

Brienne smiled and went back to her hot lemon and honey. It took longer than it should have, and Tommen was just about running late but by the time the tie was tied. Once it was done however, Jaime came straight to her, put his left hand on her waist and kissed her on the cheek.

 

Brienne was confused. More confused than ever. This was all for show, and they didn’t need to put on much of a show for Tommen’s benefit - so why was he kissing her?

 

“Drive safe,” He muttered. “And thank you.”

 

Brienne stared back at him.

 

“Go. You’re going to be late…”

 

Tommen was already at the door, waiting in his smart uniform, his tie tied, with his bag in his hand. When Brienne reluctantly began to step towards the door, Tommen rushed towards Jaime and ran into him, throwing his arms around Jaime.

 

“See you later…Dad,” Tommen smirked, as if it was all some huge joke and then turned around and fled.

 

Jaime’s eyes went to Brienne again but she just shrugged, already blushing from Jaime’s kiss. “Don’t look at me.”

 

Jaime watched from the apartment as Lannister Security escorted Brienne and Tommen from the front door to Brienne’s waiting car and the line of reporters vehicles took off in pursuit as soon as she pulled out from the kerb. He allowed himself a bittersweet smile.

 

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted Brienne in his life. Being around her fought off the despair and the darkness, the worries for the future without his hand, the way his heart clenched when he thought of Cersei, of what she had done, of what would happen to her. Jaime knew that what his sister had done had severed more than his hand, that night. He still lived in pain, he still felt the phantom sensation of his hand’s presence, and its pain...and yet his maiming had made him see.

 

Jaime poured himself another cup of coffee and lay down on the sofa, looking over their blanket fort with a smile. He and Tommen had built a blanket fort. He had taught Tommen to tie a tie. Before long, he would probably need to teach him to shave. Which would be interesting since Jaime had yet to attempt to shave himself, always leaving that job up to the nurses before Brienne arrived at the hospital in the morning.

 

A lot had happened, and things had changed forever between himself and Cersei, and yet this morning felt like the first time in a long time that he had something to smile about.

 

Before common sense could overcome Jaime, he grabbed his computer and pecked out an email to Pod.

 

 

After dropping Tommen off at school with considerably more media attention than possibly any school run in history, Brienne decided to escape the media for a while by calling by the office. Jaime’s bandages would need changed soon, but they would do long enough for her to call by and touch base with Bronn and Pod who had valiently been trying to keep everything going amidst the chaos.

 

“Morning, Tarth. Fancy seeing you here. Thought you’d be coddling lover boy.”

 

“Jaime lost a hand, Bronn.”

 

“Lollys had the baby. Thanks for asking. Horrific wee blighter, cries half the night and the little bastard’s taken to _me_ for some reason. Lollys thinks it’s funny.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be having time off?”

 

“Should be,” Bronn nodded, “But since you’re off wiping his Lordship’s arse, and Jaime went and lost a bloody hand, someone’s got to keep things ticking over and I don’t think Pod’s quite up to the task quite yet.”

 

“Thank you, Bronn,” Brienne said seriously. She began triaging her inbox, referring the many press inquiries to the Lannister Corp. PR department and responding to most of the internal emails with an explanation of the staffing situation and a standard request for patience and understanding at this time.

 

“Pod, is anyone dealing with Jaime’s inbox?”

 

“Nope,” He shrugged. “He did ask me to change his out of office reply this morning, though.”

 

At that moment, there was an assertive knock on their office door and Brienne looked up to find none other than Tywin Lannister standing in the doorway.

 

“Brienne Tarth, just the Lady I was looking for. Unfortunately recent events have required a postponement of the planned nuptials, I just wanted to check we’re all still on the same page, in that regard.”

 

“Of course,” Brienne nodded, forcing herself to keep her composure. At least Tywin, tall though he was, did not have the advantage of height over her.

 

“Good. I will reschedule everything as soon as may be and confirm a date to you and Jaime in the next few days.”

 

“Thank you, Lord Tywin.”

 

Lord Tywin nodded, curtly and then turn turned to go before stopping and turning back. “One last thing. Can anyone tell me why my son’s out of office reply now says, _‘In my blanket fort, colouring'_?”

 

Brienne bit her lip and reminded herself it would not be appropriate to laugh. Beside her, Pod’s shoulders shook silently. “The meds,” Brienne managed, with something resembling a serious face. “I expect it’s the pain medication.”

 

Tywin stared at her for a long moment, then turned and left. His distinctive, long strides echoing down the corridor until the hiss of the lift doors shut and all three of them burst out laughing.

 

 

Jaime received a message from Pod that Brienne was delayed at the office and would not return to Jaime’s apartment until after lunch. The throng of reporters having dwindled somewhat as some new crisis with Stannis Baratheon took over the news cycle providing the window of opportunity Jaime needed. Brienne had made a passing reference to eloping, but with Tommen now at school and Brienne at the office, he had some time to himself to start making plans.

 

Eloping, Jaime decided was exactly what they should do. He was going to marry Brienne. Everything they’d said before was true, it was an arrangement. A contract. A convenience. But these past two weeks, with Brienne at his side. The memory of the night they had spent together. The gift she had given him of time with Tommen – things that Jaime would never have considered himself – made him convinced that Brienne was worth investing in. She was worth making the effort of being a good husband.

 

Screw Cersei. She might be his sister, but she had done nothing but control and torment him these last few years, especially since Robert had passed. Jaime couldn’t imagine what had possessed him to sleep with her one last time. It had been weeks ago but to Jaime it felt like a lifetime. Using the speaker phone and his left hand to peck at the keys, Jaime Lannister placed a series of calls.

 

~

 

“ _Lannister Corporation Transportation Division.”_

 

“ _This is Jaime Lannister speaking, I need to book the private jet…”_

 

_~_

 

“ _Winterfell Castle House Hotel. Jon Snow speaking.”_

 

“ _Jon, Jaime Lannister here. This is rather short notice but I’d like to know if it is possible to arrange a wedding…”_

 

~

 

“ _The Arbour Hotel and Marina. How may I help you.”_

 

“ _This is Jaime Lannister speaking. I’d like to book a honeymoon…”_

 

~

 

One last call had him hovering before hitting dial. He’d gotten this next number off Olenna Tyrell, who had given him an earful about doing right by Brienne, which surprised him when as far as Jaime knew the two women had never actually met.

 

Yet even as his finger hovered he knew he was going to do this, for Brienne. The scan had been some weeks before and while Jaime knew she didn’t like to talk about her symptoms, already her underwear had been tight and uncomfortable. Brienne would need a wardrobe, and someone to dress her and there was one woman he knew his wife to be trusted, even if it happened to be the case that that woman hated his guts.

 

“Sansa Stark.”

 

“Don’t hang up,” Jaime said immediately, hearing her gasp of recognition at his voice. “I need a favour. For Brienne.”


	28. Chapter 28

Brienne left the office that afternoon and returned to her apartment for a while. She had a cup of tea and put her feet up and was just wondering how much time to leave before she needed to go pick Tommen up from school when her phone rang and, for once, it was a recognised number.

“Jaime?”

“Brienne,” Jaime had a smile in his voice. “I’m picking Tommen up from school in the town car.”

“Okay…that’s good. If you feel up to it.”

“I’m going to go mad if I have to stare at walls any longer. I’m a man of action, Brienne, I need to be doing something. Listen, I wondered if you’d had your lawyer look over the pre-nup yet?”

“Yes. How’s your hand?”

“Still gone, thanks for asking, and while we’re on the subject my stump’s pretty darned sore.”

Brienne winced. She should think twice, next time, before speaking. “You know what I mean,” She mumbled. “And I still haven’t changed your bandages!”

“Yeah, about that. I phoned The Sept, they sent someone over. Apparently I’ll need physio and prosthetics fitted and they think I should have therapy or something. As if talking to someone will make my hand grow back.”

Brienne didn’t want to talk about what Jaime had been like in the first few days, of how dark things had been. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was suicidal. Talking to someone, she thought, would help, but Jaime didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear it so she changed the subject.

“Tell me you’re not going to pick Tommen up in pyjama pants. Did you shave?”

“Nope,” Jaime popped the ‘p’ as if this gave him particular pleasure. “How are Nibbles and Nibblet?”

Brienne let out a long-suffering sigh. “They’re making my boobs sore, if you really want to know and that is not what we are calling them,” She ground out through gritted teeth. “Tell me you didn’t go past the press in pyjama pants?”

“Jogging pants, actually.”

Brienne groaned. She didn’t want to know if he was wearing underwear, she was almost afraid of the answer.

“I’m convalescing and I’m handsome. They can handle it,” Jaime declared confidently. “Are you coming over tonight?”

“Should I?”

“It sends the press pack wild every time you do, apparently. Pod volunteered to act as body guard should you feel your virtue needs safeguarding though quite why he thinks you need defending, I’m not sure. I think he may have taken a liking to you on account of the blanket fort.”

“You should probably take that down now,” Brienne advised.

“No way. I am proud of my first blanket fort. I’m picking up Tommen from school and then we are hiding out in the blanket fort and colouring.”

“I think Tommen may be a little old for colouring.”

“You’re never too old for colouring. So, have you signed the pre-nup?”

“Not yet. My lawyer said the terms were actually quite generous and advised me to accept but in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little busy. If you’re picking up Tommen, I can do it this afternoon. Why are you asking now?”

“I’ll tell you tonight. You’re coming over, right?”

Brienne wanted to snap at him at that she had already told him that but instead she bit her lip and paused, realising he sounded anxious. She dropped her voice and spoke more softly, “Of course, Jaime.”

“Good, Good. I’ll see you tonight then?”

Curiously, Brienne turned on the television and flicked through the twenty four hour news channels. It didn’t take her long to find images of the black shining town car pulling up outside Tommen’s distinguished private school and Jaime getting out in jogging pants and a t-shirt and his stupid, designer stubble with his arm all bandaged up and on display. He wore sunglasses as if he was still drunk – which was stupid because he’d been doing nothing but eating and resting all day.

Considering the amount of effort Brienne had to go to every day just to look plain and not ugly, she couldn’t help hating Jaime, just a little bit, for how stupidly handsome he looked and his bandages, true to his word, looked neat and clean and professional.

“You really weren’t kidding about the jogging pants,” Brienne muttered.

Jaime chuckled softly and turned around so she could see the phone pressed to his left ear. “I’m convalescing. I’m allowed to wear jogging pants.”

“Where’s your sling. Shouldn’t your arm still be elevated.”

“Brienne, I will put the sling back on when I get home. I promise.”

“You said my name. Why did you say my name, now they know you’re talking to me. I am not talking to you while you’re on national television.”

“I’m picking Tommen up from school,” Jaime said loudly into the phone.

Now she knew he was playing it up for the cameras. “I know you’re picking Tommen up from school, I’m watching you on national television you asshole. For all I know you’ve got that stupid photograph with you as well. You’re about a hair’s breadth from telling everyone I’m pregnant.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart.”

Brienne groaned and hung up before he could wind her up anymore. She supposed, at least, he was able to put on a good face for the cameras. Privately, she knew he still struggled. It was part of the reason she had come up with the idea of doing something together with Tommen. He at once yearned to be a father to Tommen and seemed completely terrified by the idea, not knowing what to do with himself and still adjusting to his injury. Brienne had yet to broach the subject of Cersei’s actions. The few times her name had come up, a dark, angry expression came over Jaime’s features and he quickly changed the subject.

They met for dinner that night. Brienne had decided that she was going to propose to Jaime that she return to work if he was able to get someone from The Sept to look after him and honestly, she didn’t know why he hadn’t mentioned something like that before. It wasn’t like she was any sort of trained professional herself. On the other hand, Brienne knew that Jaime trusted her and found herself wanting to be there for him. Yet, Jaime would be in better hands with a professional, she was sure. Later, when she could summon the energy to drag herself up off the sofa, she left her apartment and stopped by her lawyer’s office to sign the prenuptual agreement. She could tell they were curious and doubtless many wondered why Brienne was doing this, but she was brusque and professional and signed the documents where indicated.

Jaime, however, surprised her when she arrived at his apartment. Tommen was sitting at the breakfast bar finishing up his homework while Jaime supervised.

“You have to sign and print to say I’ve done it,” Tommen explained.

Jaime sighed but took the pen and - very badly - signed with his left hand. Brienne watched quietly from the doorway.

“Uncle Jaime, you wrote ’s’ in 'Lannister’ the wrong way around.”

“And this is why I have Pod at the office to read and write things for me. It’s called dyslexia, all the letters get jumbled up in my mind.”

Brienne cleared her throat.

Jaime looked up and when he saw Brienne, smiled. “Hey! How did you get in?”

“Your brother gave me keys in case you did something stupid,” Brienne told him plainly. “And considering the way you were in the first couple of weeks after your accident, I’m not surprised.”

“Okay…” Jaime’s gaze searched Brienne face for a moment before he let the subject go. “Well, at the moment I’m mostly worried about what to cook for dinner.”

“I’ll cook dinner,” Brienne told him. She put her coat and bag down by the door and brought the documents over to the breakfast bar. “Hi, Tommen.”

Tommen looked at the documents she was holding in her hand and then smiled up at her, “Hello Brienne. So you’re still marrying Uncle Jaime, huh?”

“Apparently,” Brienne deadpanned and put the documents down on the breakfast bar. She opened the fridge door and looked inside. “I vote pasta and pasta sauce for dinner, any objections?”

“Only that that seems like a lot of carbs,” Jaime pointed out.

“And when you’re cooking dinner you can put in as much veg as you want.” Brienne bit back. She was feeling snappish. It felt like weeks since she had thought about herself and she paused, hoping that this wasn’t turning into what she thought it was – exactly what she had been wary of. Becoming one of those women who had no life of their own, who spent all their time looking after their family.

Jaime shrugged and turned back to Tommen’s homework. “That the pre-nup?”

“Yes.” Brienne searched through the cupboards and found a pan, filled it with water and put it on the cooker and turned the heat on. There was a jar of penne pasta sitting on the kitchen worktop along with salt and the jar of sauce was in the fridge ready to be opened when the pasta was cooked.

“Great. Tommen, why don’t you go play for a while. I need to talk to Brienne about the wedding.”

Tommen looked up at Jaime and then nodded and disappeared into the spare room. Jaime waited until the music system turned on before turning to Brienne.

Brienne paused, her hand hovering over the cooker. “Yes?”

“You know how you mentioned eloping?”

Brienne frowned.

“Look, Brienne, between Cersei and this,” Jaime lifted his hand, “And all the ridiculous press attention, I have no particular interest in sneaking around King’s Landing so…I might have, sort of, made some plans.”


	29. Chapter 29

Brienne blinked after Jaime confessed everything about the scheming he had been doing while she had been gone that day.

 

“You called Sansa Stark?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Voluntarily?”

 

“I have nothing against the Starks, apart from that they’re too quick to judge and too slow to smile. My father was an asshole to them, and they took it personally, but you’ve met my father. He’s an asshole to everybody. Anyway, once she stopped yelling at me, she agreed to take you shopping tomorrow – I’ll give you a credit card – and get some things for the wedding.”

 

“You know I was joking when I talked about eloping to Winterfell.”

 

Jaime stared back at her hopefully.

 

“Jaime,” Brienne’s shoulders dropped. Her face grew red and her freckles stood out. Her skin had been flaring up sometimes with the pregnancy, but her tendency to blush when embarrassed or self-conscious had never disappeared. “What do you mean when you say ‘arranged everything’.”

 

“Arranged as in…I’ve booked the private jet and arranged it with Tyrion, I’ve spoken to Jon Snow personally and Sansa Stark is taking you shopping tomorrow and you don’t have to lift a hand to do anything. You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been by my side non-stop since the accident? Do you really want to start planning a wedding, fighting with my father? You already mentioned your Doctor was worried about hypertension. This way, you can focus on letting Sansa dress you and looking after yourself.”

 

Brienne sat down and stared at him.

 

“I mean, if you’ll still marry a cripple,” Jaime raised his arm and then when Brienne said nothing he tilted his head in that way of his.

 

“Of course I’ll still…but I thought we were having a private wedding here in King’s Landing.”

 

“Private? Have you seen the press lately?”

 

“I’ve been trying not to,” Brienne shuddered at the thought.

 

“They’ll stalk us day and night until they get everything. Better to go away and do it ourselves, on our terms. I checked with The Sept. You’re still good to fly and this way we’ll already be married and you can tell the press about Nibbles and Nibblet whenever you feel like it. Or, when you turn into a whale.”

 

“I can’t believe I let you knock me up with twins,” Brienne groaned and lay her head in her hand. “Winterfell? You’re seriously considering getting married at Winterfell?”

 

“My father will hate it but,” Jaime shrugged. “If that’s what you want. I’m not unaware of just how much you’ve been doing for me, Brienne. I owe you my life.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“No? When the surgeons took my hand I was ready to kill myself, Brienne. I was ready to end it. I didn’t want to live in a world where the only person who loved me was prepared to hurt me and I couldn’t even acknowledge my children but you, you stood by me. You’ve given me a closer relationship with Tommen in a couple of days than I’ve had through the whole of his life, you’ve given me something to live for and you’ve never once asked for anything for yourself.”

 

“I asked for an heir to Tarth,” Brienne pointed out.

 

Jaime reached out across the breakfast bar and put his left hand on Brienne’s. “Brienne, you’re my best friend. We’re going to have a family together. Whatever else happens, if we’re doing this why not do it our way?”

 

“Your father will never accept a Northern wedding.”

 

“I think that’s why it’s called eloping.”

 

“I don’t have anyone to give me away. My father is dead, my father’s liege Lord was Robert Baratheon and he’s dead.”

 

“And yet, legally, he has two surviving children who bear his last name. One of whom happens to be right here in this apartment…” Jaime let the words hang, a leading question. He looked towards the spare room.

 

“Tommen?”

 

“Technically he is a Baratheon,” Jaime shrugged. “And I happen to know he has a sister who would be happy to help as well. The plane can pick Myrcella up in Dorne before coming here to meet us. Tyrion can stand for me as Best Man or whatever they call it up there. Me, you, Myrcella, Tommen and Tyrion. And Sansa Stark,” Jaime pointed out. “Though we should probably check her for weapons before getting on the flight.”

 

Brienne was taken away. “You organised all that? And Sansa agreed?”

 

Jaime shrugged, “It’s there if you want it. I know you don’t have many friends, Brienne, but you inspire extraordinary loyalty in those you do have. There’s not a lot of people who would drop everything to sort out a friend’s wedding in the middle of the school term. Whatever you think about the wedding, Sansa is coming here tomorrow and since I know you’ll never agree to an unlimited expenditure, I’m giving you a budget of two thousand gold dragons-”

 

Brienne opened her mouth to protest.

 

“-Which will come out of the settlement when you get fed up of me and we finally divorce,” Jaime shrugged. “What’s mine is yours and all that.”

 

“The press….”

 

“Can be there or not be there. Sansa believes she knows one or two photographers up North who wouldn’t mind the coup. Some young Mormont woman trying to make a name for herself runs a small news agency up there. She’s about Tommen’s age but you’re all about promoting women. It will be her first big break and you never know, Tommen might get himself a girlfriend out of it.”

 

Brienne stared at Jaime.

 

“Have I shocked you?” He asked quietly.

 

“A little. Winterfell?”

 

“Winterfell,” Jaime nodded. “Might as well make some nice memories out of this, don’t you think?”

 

Brienne blinked. Wasn’t that what he had said when the twins were conceived. But if she was going to get married, something she had never imagined doing, she would much rather do it with Sansa Stark at her side in front of a Weirwood tree in the heart of a forest, in the open, than enclosed in some gaudy, dark, Lannister Sept. “A Lannister wedding at Winterfell. Your father’s going to have a heart attack.”

 

Jaime smiled wickedly.

 

A fluttering sensation moved through Brienne’s abdomen. She stopped and put her hand on her stomach.

 

“You ok?”

 

“Yeah. Just gas, I think.”

 

Jaime snickered, “And they say romance is dead.”

 

“Shut up, lover boy,” Brienne turned back to putting the pasta on. “If you’ll excuse me I have to go ask a twelve year old about international child abduction.”

 

Jaime sat at the breakfast bar, watching her move about her apartment as if she lived there with a small smile on her face. The thought was oddly attractive. He stood up and watched over the pasta sauce. His arm ached, he could still feel his phantom hand, he still instinctively moved to do things with it. To write, to fence. He was told by the professionals that he would need therapy. Prosthesis. All that stuff.

 

Yet somehow it didn’t seem as scary with the thought of Brienne in his life. She didn’t need looking after, but he was going to do it anyway. She was going to have comfort. He was going to learn to cook so he could make her breakfast. He was going to focus on getting better so when the babies were born, he could hold them.

 

He had four months, four months to get himself to a place where he could do that. That was his new goal.

 

As he stirred the pasta with his left hand, he thought back over the time he had had with Brienne. Their fencing bout. Their night together. The days she had sat by his bed holding his hand when he stared into space and could barely summon the energy to live.

 

He heard quiet murmuring from the spare room and found himself smiling. When the pasta was cooked, Jaime called them both through and Brienne drained the pasta and added the sauce while Tommen laid the table.

 

“Lord Baratheon of the Stormlands, here, has agreed to give me away,” Brienne told Jaime as they sat down to dinner.

 

“I’m not really Lord Baratheon,” Tommen muttered. “And I can’t believe you’re going to elope.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s more fun that way,” Jaime shrugged. “We’ll fly out the night before the wedding and then Tyrion will fly back to King’s Landing with you and your sister while Brienne and I head off on our honeymoon.”

 

Brienne looked up sharply.

 

Jaime slid his fork into his mouth and watched Brienne watch him slowly slip the pasta off the fork with his tongue. He licked his lips lasciviously.

 

“We’re not going on an actual honeymoon, right?”

 

“Sure we are. You can’t elope for the exclusive benefit of the press and then not give them an opportunity to take long lens shots of my abs. Have you seen my abs? I put a lot of work into them.”

 

“And I’m supposed to wear what, exactly?”

 

“Wear what you want or nothing at all. Wear whatever you buy with Sansa Stark tomorrow. Sansa Stark practically thinks I’m her arch nemesis, she’ll probably dress you just to spite me.”

 

Brienne groaned. “This is going to be awful. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

 

“Because I’m so handsome?”

 

“Shut up, Jaime,” Brienne shook her head and tried not to laugh. It was at once hilarious and awful. She was going to have to buy everything tomorrow and Brienne couldn’t believe she was even thinking about using Jaime’s money. This was ridiculous.

 

Beside her, Tommen bit back a giggle. “Is Mother coming?”

 

Jaime’s face fell. He looked hard at the table and then sighed. “Your mother isn’t well, Tommen,” He said seriously. “When you get back with your sister, you can go and see her together. If she’s well enough.”

 

Tommen nodded and ate a bit more of his dinner, then he pushed it away and asked to be excused.

 

Jaime let him go to the spare room, which was quickly turning into Tommen’s room, and waited until he was out of ear shot. “I’m worried about him.”

 

“He needs someone to talk to,” Brienne said. “Someone he trusts. It must be very confusing.”

 

Jaime nodded. “A therapist? Is he too young for a therapist?”

 

“His mother has practically been locked up after she assaulted you, her own brother, who is also his father, but Tommen can’t tell anyone. His bully of an older brother died horribly, choking to death on his own bodily fluids at a party. His sister is half a world away and he has no friends. What do you think?”

 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t topped himself by this point, to be honest. While I’m recuperating I can keep an eye on him and we can sort out a therapist after the wedding.”

 

Brienne nodded her agreement. Jaime, too, could probably use some therapy but she knew as soon as they were back in King’s Landing he would have a follow up appointment with the surgeon followed by a whole lot of healing and physio and then getting prosthetics fitted and undergo proper rehabilitation. He had enough on his plate for now and right now his mental health seemed marginally less precarious than it had been. A fluttering inside told Brienne she had gas again and she put her hand to her stomach.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing,” Brienne shook her head. “Gas again, I think. So, does Sansa Stark happen to know about this honeymoon?”

 

“I may have skipped that part, since I would like to keep all remaining bodily parts attached. The two of you will have the town car and my credit card. Pick things for somewhere hot.”

 

“Hot? Jaime I turn into a lobster on my sandwich break. Have you seen my skin?” Brienne pushed her sleeve up to show her freckles, as if to prove her point.

 

“Then we’ll just have to think of something other than sunbathing to do while we’re away.”

 

“Can’t you just tell me where we’re going?”

 

“I’m trying to be romantic,” Jaime turned his hand palm-up.

 

Brienne stopped and stared. Romantic. Jaime. He was trying to be romantic, for her?

 

“I mean it’s not every day you get married, is it?”


	30. Chapter 30

“I mean it’s not every day you get married, is it?”

 

“Jaime…”

 

Jaime got up and started piling the abandoned plates. “If you hate it, we’ll go somewhere else, okay? It’s not like I can’t afford it. I’m afraid we’re now neck-deep in a Lannister PR shit-show. It’s somewhere we’ll expect to be seen, we can give them a couple of holding-hands-at-sunset shots on the beach.”

 

Brienne watched him carefully, watched the excuses pour out of his mouth. All of them true. None of them, however, sitting well with his body language.

 

He was covering, rationalising. Making it about head and not heart.

 

Could it be that Jaime really was a closet romantic and he was coming up with excuses so she would think he wasn’t?

 

Brienne stared in mixed horror and fascination. Well, that was a turn up for the books.

 

“Do you always stare at people this much,” Jaime queried, “Or do I get special treatment for being your arranged-marriage fiance guy?”

 

Brienne blinked. “Hmm?”

 

Jaime sighed and rolled his eyes, “Never mind. Can you sleep over tonight?”

 

“What?”

 

“You had to know, when we agreed to this whole farce, that we’d have to make things look a certain way. We’re getting married, Brienne, it can’t look like we’re getting married because of a one night stand four months ago. Sleep over. I have a bed half the size of the Westerlands and it’s not like we haven’t shared before.  And, did I mention that Sansa Stark is coming by in the morning? I’d really rather you weren’t half way across King’s Landing stuck in traffic. Besides, if I’m very lucky I might even get to see you in those shorts again,” Jaime narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

 

Jaime regretted his teasing later when Brienne went out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow and he was left lying in the dark, half-erect, drinking in her beautiful form. He wondered how  big they were now, the twins. He would have to ask her to bring the book over from her apartment. Jaime wondered, too, about The Arbor. Was it too romantic? Would Brienne understand or did she think he was teasing her?

 

He turned towards her and watched her chest move with soft breaths. How long would it be before she started to show? The sonogram lay on his bedside table, fresh out of his pocket. Jaime had had a copy with him on the night he went to Cersei and found himself under attack. Brienne had it waiting for him when he awoke from surgery. He had thought he wanted nothing more in the world than to be a father.

 

Now, he wanted the whole deal. Brienne with her wide mouth that he could tease into the most wondrous smile and her fairy-dust freckles that went all the way down to her breasts. Why was it you fell in love with one person and not another? He had often wondered that when it came to his sister. But why was it you looked at someone one day you’d been looking at for months and your pulse jumped?

 

Jaime thought of Brienne’s attention to detail in her work, Brienne’s defiance of the mighty Tywin Lannister’s ideas if she thought it was wrong. Her bold decision to have a child, and to ask him to father it. Taking their enforced marriage, his accident, his children – everything – in her stride while growing two humans inside her.

 

He lay quietly watching her breaths. In…out…in…out. Outside a bird sang in the quiet night of the city, once the traffic had stopped and the people and the noise.

 

In…out…in…out. Her growing bosom. He wondered what she thought about the loss of his hand. Did she think him less of a man as Cersei had implied when Kettleblack assaulted him? Brienne had never given him cause to think so. He wondered, too, at her sitting by his side day after day, feeding and caring for him, bringing him things to cheer him up. Enduring the press and conspiring with his brother to sort the whole PR mess out.

 

Jaime cradled his bandaged stump, with it’s phantom pains and itched to have it back, to touch her skin once more, to pleasure her, to grasp a foil and fence her one last time. He would have to learn everything, re-learn everything. Everything he did with his right, he would have to do now with his left. Where Jaime had grown up accepting the need to defend any weakness to his dying breath, Brienne treated his disability with alacrity. The very prospect of readjusting his whole life and everything he did to being left-handed would have been a daunting task, did he not have the comforting knowledge that Brienne would stand by his side throughout it all – not because they were soon to be married, but because she was a person of extraordinary loyalty to those fortunate enough to be considered as her friends.

 

Jaime Lannister fell asleep with a little smile on his face that night and woke up to the image of Brienne’s face plastered against her pillow, her hair askew, snoring softly. Before he even gave it a moment’s thought he leaned over and fondly pecked his lips against her temple before he rose and went to use the bathroom. He dressed, showered, and made breakfast and still Brienne slept on and Jaime, knowing the strain she was under, refused to wake her. Sansa Stark would just have to wait.

 

Tommen shuffled into Jaime’s kitchen half an hour after Jaime rose and to Jaime’s surprise a sleepy Tommen, barely awake, came and hugged him before hopping up onto a breakfast stool.

 

“Good morning, Uncle Jaime.”

 

“Morning, Tommen. What can I get you for breakfast today?”

 

“Can I have a Full Northern Breakfast? With extra bacon?”

 

“When we go North, you can have a Full Northern Breakfast. Here in King’s Landing we might have to make do with just the bacon and maybe some eggs.”

 

Tommen considered this for a moment and then shrugged, “Ok,” he compromised.

 

“I may need your help with the bacon,” Jaime hesitated, feeling stupid asking a twelve year old for help but to Jaime’s surprise, Tommen was eager to help out his Uncle Jaime and make himself useful. All Jaime had to do was tell him he was doing a good job and Tommen smiled from here to the sun. Jaime wondered how often Cersei had praised their son, but he didn’t like to linger on the thought and so he patted Tommen’s shoulder and told him to guard the bacon when Brienne finally surfaced.

 

“Uncle Jaime! That’s mean!”

 

“You don’t know that woman in the morning! You’ll blink and before you know it all the bacon will be gone and you and I won’t have had any.” Just then the doorbell rang and Jaime went to answer it, dressed in a t-shirt and cut-off jogging pants, because they were easy to get on and he didn’t mind looking like a slob if he wasn’t going beyond his own front door. His hair was still slightly wet and he hadn’t bothered to shave.

 

Jaime opened the door anyway.

 

 

Sansa Stark stared at the man before her, the man she had hated most of her life and moreso since her mother’s death. Jaime Lannister stood before her, a perfect six-feet-two with his golden hair, just long enough to run your fingers through and stained with sunbleached streaks of blond. His sharp, masculine jaw was covered in designer stubble with the slightest hint of grey giving him an air of maturity that surprised Sansa for how attractive it was, even at her age. His eyes were the greenest emerald Sansa thought she had ever seen and the shorts and t-shirt he wore displayed every inch of muscle that covered his body. He clearly worked out. A lot.

 

Sansa reminded herself that regardless, she hated the man, but for Brienne she would do this. She cleared her throat.

 

“Mister Lannister?”

 

“Lady Stark. Come in. Call me Jaime. Brienne isn’t quite ready yet so Tommen and I were just cooking some bacon for breakfast,” Jaime walked over to Tommen, hoping Sansa would come in of her own accord. He still wasn’t quite sure of Tommen’s cooking skills. “That’s great, Tommen. Give the bacon a minute longer and then flip it over and cook the other side, ok?”

 

Jaime turned to Sansa. “Can I get you a cup of tea? Coffee?”

 

“I’m fine. Really.”

 

“We were just having breakfast. I hope you’re not in a hurry, Brienne’s not really up yet.”

 

“What? Do you know how much we have to get done today? How can she not be up?” Sansa exclaimed.

 

“Because she’s been looking after me and hounded by the press and she’s exhausted and I decided to let her lie in.”

 

Sansa Stark stood near the door, her whole body expressing her awkwardness. She looked around the expensively appointed apartment and her eyes stopped on the blanket fort.

 

Jaime looked over and saw Sansa stop and stare. He ignored her and began to lay plates, cutlery and glasses. He poured coffee for himself and made a cup of tea for Brienne. Everything took twice as long as it had before and he often had to work out the logistics of doing things with one hand. More than that, it surprised Jaime how clumsy he was when doing the simplist of things, like picking up a plate. His hands and his eyes were uncoordinated and his left hand was a lot weaker than he had realised. He would need to work on that.

 

Just as he was finishing Brienne arrived, shuffling in and wincing at the light.

 

The moment she sat down, Jaime pressed a freshly brewed cup of her favourite decaf tea into her hands and plated up two slices of bacon and an egg for her. Tommen helped by pouring orange juice and putting in some toast.

 

Jaime leaned in and brushed a hand across her back. “Morning,” He said softly.

 

Brienne glared at him. She had never felt so tired in her life and after the last couple of weeks, everything seemed to be catching up with her.

 

“Sansa is here,” Jaime said softly, tilting his head towards their guest who was still standing awkwardly just inside the door.

 

Brienne nodded and smiled. “Lady Sansa. Good to see you.”

 

“Lady Brienne,” Sansa came forwards and Brienne asked Jaime to get her a cup of tea.

 

Jaime wanted to point out that an offer of tea had already been made and declined, but he didn’t want to argue in front of Tommen and Sansa so he put another of Brienne’s teabags in a cup for Sansa and decided if Lady Stark was going to turn down his tea, she could just make do with decaf.

 

Jaime glanced at Brienne, who was still waking up and looked none too excited by Sansa’s presence and the prospect of the day ahead, but slowly and painstakingly he plated up the other plates of bacon and eggs and Tommen collected his toast and offered the other slice to Brienne who nibbled it gratefully.

 

“Tommen, what do you say you and I go and watch some cartoons?” Jaime suggested.

 

“You mean we can eat on the sofa??”

 

“That is exactly what I mean. What are cool Uncles for?” Jaime grinned at his son and winked and Tommen giggled, enjoying the joke. It seemed Tommen kinda liked having the secret between them  and with a silent nod to Brienne, Jaime left Brienne and Sansa alone at the breakfast bar. Jaime figured ignoring the Stark girl was best, since she seemed so unsure of herself. With Jaime gone from the kitchen area, Sansa perched delicately on the stool by Brienne’s elbow. Brienne was already halfway through her own breakfast but Jaime saw Sansa hesitate at the sight of her own food plated up. Maybe she was waiting to see if Brienne keeled over with poison like Joffrey once had, but one sip of the fresh orange juice and Jaime knew the moment she hummed with pleasure at the citrus sensation that Sansa would accept the hospitality. He settled himself on the sofa as Tommen turned on the television and snuggled up beside him.


	31. Chapter 31

Brienne had never been more reluctant to go shopping in her life. While she had typically stuck to the few stores she knew stocked things in her size, or resorted to buying menswear, Sansa seemed determined to drag her to every designer boutique in King’s Landing. First however, was the horrific ordeal of a bra fit, something Sansa insisted she needed.

 

Honestly, Brienne knew she needed a new bra. It had been weeks since she had started spilling out the top and all the doctors had advised her to buy new non-wired bras.  But the thought of actually shopping for a bra, of trying to find something that fitted, of having a complete stranger poke around her breasts was something Brienne could not stand the thought of.

 

Sansa, however, was having none of it. “I’ve booked you an appointment. You’re getting a fitting.”

 

“Sansa…”

 

“Ah!” Sansa interrupted Brienne. “It’s happening. Nothing else will fit if you don’t have the right bra and everything will look different if you insist you don’t want an under wire.”

 

“I often just wear sports bras, normally.”

 

“And Jaime doesn’t mind that?”

 

“He’s never complained,” Brienne responded with a straight face. It was true, because Jaime had no cause to know much about her underwear drawer. Fortunately whenever he had gone rifling through her clothes for pyjamas when sleeping over at her place, Jaime seemed to never have cause to raid that particular part of her chest of drawers.

 

“He is quite nice eye candy, I’ll give him that, but he’s still a Lannister.”

 

“Most of the Lannisters are,” Brienne responded dead-pan.

 

Sansa rolled her eyes and dragged Brienne along behind her. For someone who was a good six inches shorter and considerably lighter than Brienne, Sansa Stark had an admirable hold over her.

 

The bra fit, fortunately, turned out not to be nearly as traumatic as Brienne had worked it up to be in her mind. The woman who fitted her was kind and discreet. She took a measurement around Brienne’s ribs and then gave her a series of sizes to try on, explaining each time what she was doing and relating, in a professional manner, which bits fitted and which didn’t until they hit upon something that fitted and purchased several white and nude non-wired t-shirt bras and a lace scrap of a thing that Sansa threw in against Brienne’s will. Finally, Brienne picked out some bridal underwear while blushing a brilliant red and wishing Sansa wasn’t egging her on quite so hard.

 

“He’s giving you his credit card,” Sansa pushed.

 

Next, Sansa insisted, was swim wear. Brienne’s breasts had once been small enough to get away with a string bra. They found a halter-neck bikini that Brienne agreed she could stand to wear. Sansa said it made her look like a goddess, but Brienne was skeptical and insisted they got the shorts and kaftan that went with it so she had something to cover up with. To her surprise, Brienne had realised that she was already starting to show. It had been a while since she had looked at herself in the mirror properly, but having her bra fitted had shown her it was true. Along with the swimwear Sansa picked out shorts, vest tops and t-shirts along with a warmer wrap for the evenings. Fortunately going to somewhere apparently hot released Brienne from the problem of finding trousers long enough to fit her and she was sure she could get away with a few of the mens trousers she already had in her closet.

 

A clutch purse, sunglasses and a new watch were added to the pile. Brienne winced at the total as the shop assistant put it through.

 

Last but not least, was the dress. Brienne wasn’t sure about a dress, she had never liked them. Sansa dragged her to one bridal shop and then another, nothing was quite right. Most dresses were too short and they didn’t have time to get something hand made.

 

They found what they were looking for not at a Bridal shop but at a vintage clothing store Brienne displayed interest in just as they were starting to despair. In a back corner along with some costumes marked for entertainment and performance, Brienne found a vintage, sleeveless white jumpsuit made of the purest silk, with a halterneck and dropped back that could be worn without a bra and legs long enough for a woman of Sansa’s height in six inch heels. With Brienne’s height, she could comfortably wear flats – sandals, Sansa suggested – which would both make the dress fit and allow Brienne to be comfortable for most of the day.

 

By the time they ended the day at Brienne’s apartment, Sansa Stark had worked her way through the entirety of Jaime’s budget and outfitted Brienne with enough clothes and accessories to fit two suitcases.

 

“I was thinking, even though it’s summer, you could do with something to keep you warm up north.”

 

“Sansa, if there’s a choice between hypothermia and more shopping I would honestly rather have hypothermia.”

 

“No, I was going to suggest…there’s an old Stark family garment, a sort of short cloak made with white feathers. No one ever wears it, but it would go over your jumpsuit quite well. If you want.”

 

Brienne softened. She had hardened herself, after a long day’s shopping and was quite sure some of the pararazzi had followed them, though quite why was completely beyond Brienne. No one had ever wanted to take her picture for anything. “That would be lovely, Sansa.”

 

“You know, I never thought I’d say this about Jaime Lannister, but he seems kind of smitten.”

 

“He doesn’t get out much,” Brienne retorted. “I literallly wiped his arse when he was in hospital, he has to like me.”

 

“I guess,” Sansa shrugged. “It seemed really important to him that you get what you want for the wedding.”

 

“He probably feels guilty.”

 

“How so?” Sansa queried.

 

“He knows I’m not really interested in marriage. It was his father who pressured us into it.”

 

“I did wonder,” Sansa mused. “You always said you didn’t want to marry.”

 

“Well, we wouldn’t be, getting married that is. Except…” Brienne cut herself off. Was it still a secret. Jaime had said to tell or not tell who she wanted, but Brienne wasn’t sure she wanted the whole world to know quite yet. However, this was Sansa, who knew exactly how the press operated after the way they’d gone after her late brother, Robb, and his wife. “I’m pregnant.”

 

“Seven Hells! Brienne!”

 

“I know…I know…”

 

“He knocked you up. I am going to fucking castrate the bastard, Brienne, you see if I don’t!”

 

Brienne put a calming hand on Sansa’s arm. “It’s not Jaime’s fault. I mentioned the possibility of having a family, since my father died, and it happened a lot sooner than we anticipated. Normally these things take months. This time it…didn’t.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa took this in. “Hence the shotgun wedding?”

 

“Hence the shotgun wedding,” Brienne agreed. “And if you don’t mind I’d quite like to keep it private until we’re married. I know it’s hard for you to understand, for a lot of people to understand, but we both want a family and this is how it has to happen. And, if it doesn’t work out, he made sure I had a very generous pre-nup.”

 

“You know he’ll contest that if it comes to a divorce?”

 

Brienne bit her lip, not wanting to reveal even to Sansa, the closest thing she had ever had to a friend, about her arrangement with Jaime that had led to all this.

 

Sansa sighed at Brienne’s silence. “So are you going over there tonight? I have to go but I could head over there with you first if you need some help getting through the press?”

 

“No, I…I’ll call him,” Brienne decided. She was more worried about Sansa being out by herself at this time of night, especially considering her horrible ex-boyfriend. The one who had beaten her up and tried to torture her but Sansa called a cab and insisted she was fine to get home.

 

Brienne held it together as long as it took Sansa to get out the door. The moment it was closed, she crashed on the sofa and fell asleep.

 

Brienne awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was ten past midnight and she had slept straight through dinner time. She let the answer phone get it and heard Jaime, asking her to please call him if she got this.

 

Brienne picked up, “Hey.”

 

“Brienne!”

 

“I was sleeping.”

 

“I was worried. Are you ok? Should I come over there?”

 

“Just tired,” Brienne shrugged and then realised Jaime couldn’t see that. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, too. She would need to do something about that. She put Jaime on speaker phone as she began to strip. “Are you ok? Can you manage without me? How is Tommen?”

 

“Tommen is fine. He’s asking after you. Wants to show you his horses when we get back from The North.”

 

“Well tell Tommen I would love to see his horses.” Brienne’s mouth cracked open into a yawn. “When is this whole charade getting going?”

 

“A few days. We’ll fly out in the morning, get married in the evening, wedding night at Winterfell and then Tyrion will see to Tommen and Myrcella while you and I fly off for our honeymoon to get harassed by the paparazzi.”

 

Brienne wanted to make a witty retort about why they were doing this, but she cracked another yawn.

 

“You know,” Jaime mused, “It feels kinda weird you not being here.”

 

Brienne wanted to say that she missed time to herself, but being around Jaime was, strangely, not as stressful as being around most people. But she was too tired to talk. She was already changed into pyjamas and her head was once more hitting the pillow. “Have to sleep,” Brienne murmured.

 

“Of course,” Jaime sighed. “Goodnight, Brienne.”

 

Jaime hung up, wishing he didn’t miss Brienne quite as much as he did at that moment. After weeks spending every waking moment together, it seemed strange for her to be somewhere else. But he could manage much better by himself now and once he had healed some more he would start rehabilitation and look at prosthetic options.

 

Lying in bed, he cradled his stump to his chest, missing his hand. Wishing he was whole again. Tommen still slept in the spare room and his mood seemed lower since Brienne had gone. After coming home from school he had spent most of the day in the blanket fort, refusing to talk.

 

Jaime fell into a fitful sleep, hoping he would see Brienne soon.


	32. Chapter 32

The next few days were the longest of Brienne’s life. She was still getting used to the changes in her body. Her nausea had never been as bad as she had expected and thankfully it mostly seemed to have passed. Her appetite seemed endless, however and she was exhausted all of the time. Nevertheless, Brienne made a point of going into the office and putting in a full day’s work each day, politely ignoring the lingering press attention and fielding joking calls from Jaime, asking inane questions about what she planned to have for lunch and when she could come and visit.

 

Brienne made a point of calling by Jaime’s place quickly after work, for public appearance, but she slept at her own place, needing some peace and quiet after the madness of Jaime’s time in hospital.

She knew Jaime missed his friend, but Brienne needed time to herself and she hoped Jaime understood that.

 

Not to mention the necessity of packing and setting up the house for her absence. Clearing out the fridge, putting a few lamps on timers, making sure all her valuables left behind were secure.

 

When it was finally time to go, Brienne knew that Jaime and Tyrion had arranged everything. To avert suspicion, Jaime had arranged to take the plane early in the morning to meet Myrcella in Dorne. After refuelling it was due to return mid-morning and pick up the rest of the party before heading on to Winterfell. With trepidation in her stomach, Brienne opened her front door to Tyrion and Pod. Tyrion greeted her and escorted her downstairs while Pod carried her suitcase down to the black, Lannister chauffeur-driven car.

 

She sat quietly, Tyrion at her side in the back as Pod drove. It seemed serious, and solemn. They picked up Sansa Stark next and then stopped by Tommen’s riding class. Jaime already had all of the boy’s luggage with him and within an hour the entire party was headed to the private airfield.

 

The plane was a twin prop private jet, with stairs that folded down and without a member of the press in sight, Brienne climbed up into the aircraft to be met with Jaime who immediately moved in for a hug.

 

“Hey,” He smiled warmly at her, in a way that flipped Brienne’s stomach. Why did it feel so real, all of this? Was it the subterfuge? Was it having Jaime’s family around them? Or was it just the way Jaime had started looking at her lately, like he really saw her. Looking at him now, Brienne had to admit she had admired him from a distance for some time. How could she not. That body, that hair, those eyes. His attitude stank to Seven Hells sometimes, but to Brienne’s surprise he had accepted her batshit crazy idea to do her duty and provide an heir for her house and he had become a gentle, soft, caring man around her. A man who seemed to like her company. A man who smiled at her when he saw her in the morning.

 

“Brienne,” Jaime cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Myrcella. Myrcella, this is Brienne.”

 

Myrcella curtseyed to Brienne politely and Brienne shook her hand with a polite, “Nice to meet you.”

 

Brienne saw Jaime’s hopeful expression in the background. He might officially be their uncle, but with Cersei now under psychiatric treatment, Jaime was happy to take a more active role in their lives. Playing the good uncle and, privately, getting to be something like a father for the first time in his life.

 

Brienne switched her gaze to the young woman before her and shared the first compliment that came to mind, “What a lovely dress you’re wearing!”

 

“You don’t think it’s too revealing?”

 

“I think it must suit the Dornish climate very well but I hope you have something warmer for The North. Even in summer, Sansa tells me it’s rather chilly compared with King’s Landing. Oh, Myrcella, this is my friend, Sansa Stark.”

 

Jaime watched as they chatted away and took their seats. He thought the dress was much too revealing and had said as much, and Myrcella had suitably rebuffed his words. Sansa and Myrcella sat next to each other and when the pilot requested they take their seats, Jaime made sure he was sitting at Brienne’s side, insisting Brienne take the aisle seat both for the leg room and so she could dash to the toilet.

 

As they all buckled in and the plane took off, Brienne’s stomach clenched. She watched Jaime out of the corner of her eye and told herself she was lucky to have him in her life, to have the memories she did. To have Tommen want to be around her and Myrcella who had introduced herself and had come across as aloof but curious in that manner that only teenage girls seemed able to manage.

 

In response Brienne had been polite and had tried not to fuss over Jaime too badly. The fact that he had barely left his apartment since he had come home from hospital meant that their absence would not long go unnoticed, even if he had snuck out through the basement and while his stump was improving it still had some considerable healing to do. Still, Jaime was taking it with better grace than Brienne would have imagined from those first few, dark days in hospital with his black mood and thousand yard stare.

 

Instead she saw him watching her quietly, a peaceful look in his eye. When they hit some turbulence, Jaime’s left hand clutched her own and when Brienne needed to dash to the toilet, Jaime waited outside and made sure she was ok.

 

Some time into the flight, once Myrcella and Tommen were listening to the in flight movie with plug-in headphones and Tyrion and Pod were taken up with some conversation about dragons, Jaime leaned over to Brienne and whispered in her ear, “Myrcella knows.”

 

“Of course she knows, Jaime, she told Tommen.”

 

“No, I mean, I know that she knows it’s just…she told me she’s happy I’m her father,” Jaime’s eyes, tender and careful flickered to Brienne.

 

“Jaime that’s wonderful.”

 

Jaime’s eyes still seemed uncertain. “I know it’s a lot. It’s not what you signed up for.”

 

“I signed up for a family, Jaime. Myrcella and Tommen are family. They will always have a place at our table.”

 

Jaime let out a long slow sigh as the anxiety lifted from his eyes and he squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Brienne,” He said seriously.

 

Brienne felt a blush rise to her cheek but she simply turned back to staring ahead. Jaime raised her hand to his lips and Brienne swallowed hard as he kissed her knuckles. He continued to hold her hand, glancing at her every so often as the plane started away down the runway and up into the sky.

 

 

They landed on a cold, crisp day at the modest sized regional airport that served The North and were met by private cars to take them to the old Winterfell Castle run by Jon Snow on behalf of his mother’s family, House Stark. The man was said to take more after his mother’s family than his father’s, in both looks and sanity. Though Jaime found the Starks to be a boring, sober lot, they were at least sane. Jaime’s mind once more went to Cersei and felt his blood pressure rise, but then he looked to Brienne and his son and daughter and told himself to focus on more positive things.

 

Jaime had had a chance to talk with Tyrion briefly during the flight and Cersei’s initial diagnosis was not good. Mention had been made of several serious conditions, most of which Jaime couldn't even spell. Cersei had probably been unwell for quite some time and would be in need of professional help for some time to come. They hoped that under the correct treatment, she would eventually be able to lead a normal life but there was no doubt, they said, that she was going to need to be kept in hospital for some time. In his head he knew that what had happened was probably because of Cersei’s illness, but he knew now they could never go back to what they had and the further they travelled from King’s Landing the closer Jaime felt to Brienne. Like Brienne was his future, Brienne and the twins and Myrcella and Tommen.

 

His mind went for a moment to Joffrey, to holding him as a baby before he turned into a spiteful bully like his mother. Beside him, Brienne looked nervous and started twisting her hands in that way of hers. Jaime reached over and put his left on hers and then she looked at him and the world stopped and all that existed, for briefest of moments, was him and her and her sapphire blue eyes and he felt a serene sort of calm hope and joy that this woman was in his life. He removed his hand and she looked down and then turned his gaze out the window, watching the scenery of The North pass by.

 

He and Brienne were in the front car. Next was Tommen and Myrcella and bringing up the rear was Tyrion with Sansa Stark. They were by themselves for probably the last time before they were married in a few hours times.

 

“Out of interest,” Jaime said after a while.

 

Brienne glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

 

“I never asked if I had any competition?”

 

“Competition?”

 

“You know,” Jaime tilted his head in a meaningful way that made Brienne snort.

 

“Not really. The number of men whom I can proposition without them laughing in my face is rather short. Apart from that awful leering security guard who seems half-Wildling, you were pretty much it.”

 

“You were going to ask Tormund?”

 

“I was going to use a sperm bank,” Brienne corrected. “Why does it matter.”

 

“So there’s no one you might be thinking of starting something with?”

 

“Of course not, Jaime. Have you forgotten that the whole point of this was, ironically, to avoid being tied down? Which lasted all of four months. Why do you ask?”

 

“No reason. Asking for a friend.”

 

Brienne’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Did I mention we have a honeymoon to go on after we get married?”

 

“You might have mentioned it once or twice and roped your arch enemy into forcing me to go shopping for it."

 

“Just checking.”

 

Brienne turned to Jaime, wondering what he was up to, where this was coming from. She took him in, his ridiculous good looks, his handsome face, his still-healing stump, the man who had softened to her, shown her kindness, shown her physical love. The man who had respected her work and opened her heart and defended her to his father. Brienne had gotten good over the years at isolating herself, at building up walls. As a child she had had few friends and as an adult it seemed she had almost forgotten how to connect with others, he had become so used to her own company. The few interactions she did have were with others who knew who it was to suffer, like Sansa Stark, or the continued taunts and jests and torments of adolescent-like adults who took pleasure in causing pain. Jaime had been one of them once but something had changed. Brick by brick, somehow, by revealing himself he had allowed her to let down her walls. It might not be obvious that she had changed but somewhere, somehow, she had let Jaime in and she wanted more of that. More of that connection. It was addictive. She wanted to be cared for, to hold hands, to fight him with swords, to spar with words, to make blanket forts in Tarth that would never be waterproof, which was a ridiculous idea…to share her children with this man and watch him raise them as a father.

 

But, she reminded herself, it was an arrangement. It was a pragmatic choice, for show.

 

It was, she told her self firmly. It had to be.


	33. Chapter 33

They pulled up outside Winterfell castle some time after lunch. They were met at the door by a short man with the look of a Stark who introduced himself as Jon Snow and welcomed Sansa as a sister - immediately displaying a protectiveness for her that showed he took his position as her brother seriously. Sansa was a notoriously solitary figure who had become exceedingly careful since her mother’s death about who she let close to her. Jon, apparently, was an exception. He welcomed them all and shook Jaime’s hand. Winterfell Castle had long since been converted from the residence of the Stark Family into a high end Country House Hotel. It was full of crackling fires, wall-mounted hunting trophies and assorted weapons. The rugs that covered the wooden floorboards were thick and warm and there were vases of flowers and pictures of nature to brighten the dark stone walls.

 

“You’ll both be in the Honeymoon Suite tonight,” Jon told them with a twinkle in his eye, “But in the mean time we’ll need to make other arrangements for you both to dress and with all the rooms you’ve booked out, I’m afraid it leaves us rather short. Sansa has suggested you might prepare for the ceremony in her room, Miss Tarth and Mister Lannister, you may use my room room unless you’d prefer to dress in the room we assigned to your brother?”

 

Jaime knew all about Brandon Lannister. A lad about Tommen’s age, he had broken his back in a riding accident some years ago. It had been a horse from the Lannister stables that Bran had been riding at the time, sent north as a good will gesture for some business arrangement between the late Ned Stark and Jaime’s father, Lord Tywin. The incident had, understandably, done little to help the bad blood between the Starks and the Lannisters.

 

“Thank you,” Jaime stumbled. “That’s…”

 

“I can make other arrangements, if you’d rather. I’ll need to help Bran dress shortly, after which he  is likely to go to the library and I will be at your service for the rest of the evening. It seemed the most expedient arrangement and if it is agreeable to you, I happily offer my services as your valet.”

 

“Is that not rather unusual,” Brienne queried. “For you to do that yourself?”

 

“I have been a Steward for many years,” Jon shrugged. “I can of course ask one of the staff if you’d prefer?”

 

It had been a long time since Jaime bothered with a valet. His father often sent someone to help him dress for special occasions but he hadn’t expected one for this. Though, he supposed, if they were eloping for a secret wedding his father would probably be gratified that at least something was being done properly.

 

Jaime looked to Brienne, who shrugged. He looked to Jon. “Thank you, that will do just fine. Tommen can come with me. Tyrion?”

 

“Please show me to my quarters. Under no circumstances will I be dressing in the presence of anyone in my family,” Tyrion smiled up at Jon with a false, polite smile.

 

Brienne cleared her throat. “Myrcella?”

 

“Can I dress in my own room?”

 

Brienne looked to Jaime.

 

“I don’t see why not,” Jaime shrugged.

 

“But if you need any help with anything, you can join us in Sansa’s room," Brienne added. 

 

Jon nodded. “Well then, let me show the gentlemen to your rooms. Sansa?”

 

As Sansa led the way for Brienne and Myrcella, Brienne looked to Jaime one last time and then, with a formal nod, took her leave of him. Jaime thought Brienne had been rather quiet since their last conversation and Jaime hoped she was ok. He would have asked if something was bothering her were it not for the fact that he knew Brienne didn’t like the attention of being asked personal questions in front of a crowd. Instead he held his peace and watched her go, wishing he had a moment longer alone with her before the ceremony. It was strange to think that the next time he would see her would be to wed the woman.

 

As Jon Snow led Tommen and Jaime up to the private family rooms in one wing, Sansa led Brienne and Myrcella through a series of corrridors up to one of the high towers where Sansa’s room was situated. It was small and cosy, and though the lone window was somewhat small, it had a commanding view over Winterfell and The North. Sansa disappeared for a moment to show Myrcella to her room nearby and then returned to find Brienne staring out the window.

 

“Jon knows I get claustrophobic. I like to see the horizon, you see. It helps.”

 

“I can imagine,” Brienne said. Her face was serious. Stoic. Inside her heart thumped and she found herself once more struggling for words. Jaime had been different and Brienne wished that they had had a moment to touch base before the ceremony. He kept making allusions to the future, to their life together in a way that confused Brienne. It was true she hadn’t been looking for something, but was it remotely possible that _something_ might have walked into her life anyway? Or was that just wishful thinking?

 

“You’re lucky, you know,” Sansa stood beside Brienne, looking at the same view. Both their eyes trained on the horizon across the grassy plains of The North.

 

“Why lucky?”

 

“The way he looks at you. I mean don’t get me wrong I hate his guts, but most women would die to have a man as handsome as Jaime Lannister look at them the way he looks at you.”

 

“We’re friends, Sansa, and we're having a baby together.” Brienne’s words were stilted and awkward. She knew what Sansa was implying, it was exactly the same question that had been running through her mind since they got on the plane. “It’s not some grand romance…I know what I look like. It is simply an arrangement that suits us both for our own reasons. Lets not pretend it’s something it’s not.”

 

“You never wanted to marry before...” Sansa’s face hardened, “The Lannister’s are pushing you into this, aren’t they?”

 

Brienne slowly sat down on Sansa’s bed. “I always knew I would need to have a child at some point if I didn’t want my House to die out.” Brienne bit her lip and blushed from her neck to her hairline. “He’s actually become quite a good friend, in the last few months,” Brienne said quietly.

 

She knew it would be difficult to understand. The Stark family’s encounters with the Lannisters had rarely been positive.

 

“Friend?” Sansa pushed.

 

“We both want these children, Sansa.”

 

“Hang on...children? Plural?”

 

“Twins,” Brienne whispered.

 

“Gods! Brienne!” Sansa exclaimed. “You said you were pregnant, not that it was twins! This is insane, you do realise that? You’re marrying Jaime Lannister and you’re having his babies. Could this situation get any more surreal. No wonder he looks at you like you walk on water.”

 

“Don’t blow it up into something it’s not, Sansa. It’s simply a formality to ensure there won’t be any issues over their legitimacy. Jaime offered me a very generous pre-nup and in a couple of years we can ‘amicably split’. The Lannisters get their legitimate heirs, since they’re so hung up with it and I get to make sure my children never want for anything, which given Tarth’s current financial situation is nigh on a miracle. There’s nothing more to this.” No matter how much, she might want there to be. Jaime was a good friend and he would make a good father. His heart would always be Cersei’s first and Brienne was walking into that with her eyes wide open.

 

Sansa slowly sat down at Brienne’s side. “When you were together, was he…did he…” Sansa paused. “Was he nice or was he a total jerk?”

 

Brienne shook her head. Was this what women did? Talk about sex? Of course it was, Brienne had heard countless women do exactly that and had always watched from afar, as if it was some other strange creature participating in the conversation and not a woman of the same species and gender as herself. Now she found herself on the other end, being pestered for information. “No, he was…it was…” How did people talk about this? In truth she didn’t really want to tell Sansa the details. It was too precious a memory, a memory she kept to herself and cherished. Would always cherish. As was often the case, the words would not come to her and so she borrowed Sansa’s words instead. “He was nice,” Brienne said, simply.

 

“This is the same Jaime Lannister we’re talking about?” Sansa pushed and then sighed.

 

“He is capable of not being a total jackass, from time to time,” Brienne put her hand on Sansa’s. The woman was slightly younger than Brienne but had been hurt a lot more often by men in her life and she wasn’t sure any amount of explaining was going to make Sansa believe Jaime Lannister’s intentions were good. “Come on, or I’m going to be late to my own wedding. We’re supposed to be getting ready.”

 

“Alright, alright. Bathroom is through that door over there. You get first dibs on the shower since you’re the bride. I’ve got spare razors and toothbrushes under the sink. I’ll get your clothes laid out and when you come out I’ll do your hair and make-up.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Sansa makes Brienne look amazing.

Brienne went through all the motions. She washed her hair and shaved her legs and armpits. She dried and gave into to rubbing in body lotion all over her skin when Sansa started bossing her about through the bathroom door. When she was ready she went into the bedroom and found her suitcase had been brought up by the staff. 

Sansa showered as Brienne dressed. They had the bridal underwear they had chosen but Brienne’s halterneck was backless and she decided she would have one of the staff bring the things she didn’t need down to the honeymoon suite in the unlikely event anything would actually happen on the wedding night. Brienne could admit to herself now, she had thought often about her night with Jaime and had often thought about the possibility of repeating the experience were it not for the fact that Cersei had such an unhealthy hold over the man and his life. Now with Cersei undergoing residential treatment, Brienne was unsure where that left Cersei and Jaime’s relationship. She hoped, for Jaime’s sake, that he had closed the door on that part of his life. The thought of what Cersei had had done to Jaime on her orders ought to make the possibility of any future for them non-existent but Jaime was uncommonly attached to his sister and Brienne had vowed long ago to not to get in the way of that. As his friend, one of the only friends he had, Brienne wanted to support him whatever he chose. The idea that he might, somehow, choose her seemed like a pipe dream. She told herself to be realistic and focus on more immediate goals, like actually getting to her wedding on time.

 

She put on the panties of the bridal underwear, leaving the bra in the suitcase. Now she could see it in natural light, Brienne realised how revealing the outfit was. The fabric clung to her figure, revealing the curve of her hip, the way her stomach slightly swelled and the outline of her nipples. Instantly she questioned allowing Sansa to pester her into choosing it. The sleeveless jumpsuit showed off the whole expanse of her back and the faint outline of the panties was just visible underneath the thin white satin.

 

Behind her the bathroom door opened. “You need to take the panties off, you can see them through the silk,” Sansa spoke.

 

“I am not going out there without any underwear on!” Brienne exclaimed.

 

“It’s silk,” Sansa shrugged. “You have to own it. Come on, Bri, you look stunning. Are you trying to hook up with him or not?”

 

“What?”

 

Sansa sighed and shook her head. “When I told you how he looked at you your eyes lit up, and then you spent ten minutes telling me all about how it’s just a sensible arrangement between friends when I think it’s pretty obvious to both of us you were trying to convince yourself more than me. Tell me honestly that you don’t want him to shag you rotten tonight.”

 

Brienne could feel the blush lighting up her freckles without looking in the mirror.

 

“Thought so. You just have to walk out there and think ‘murder’. Slay, 'em,” Sansa offered her a small smile. “We’ll have the bridal underwear taken down to your suite and you can put it on for him tonight. If you want…” Sansa’s eyes twinkled cheekily. “Now I’ll pop back into the bathroom for a minute while you take everything off. Put on my spare dressing gown so I can do your make up and then I’ll show you how to make the halterneck look awesome with your boobs.”

 

Brienne had never felt more ridiculous in her life, but reluctantly she obeyed Sansa’s instructions and then when Sansa came out, Sansa made her sit at the dresser while she worked on Brienne’s hair. Brienne had always kept her hair short because of the amount of sport she did. Working out, having long hair got in the way. It needed tied up. It took ages to dry. Brienne had long since cut it all off and used a headband to keep it out of her eyes. Lately she had been lax in getting her hair cut and it was a little longer than it sometimes was. Sansa dried it carefully, sweeping it the way she wanted to sit and then using product to hold it in place swept back from her face. Rather than looking severe, when Sansa did it her hair looked elegant and neat and somehow giving her locks a sense of volume that had been lacking before. Sansa added in a small braid, decorated with silver ribbon and added a few pearls to Brienne’s hair that added to the air of expense and elegance. Then Sansa began to work on Brienne’s make-up, using simple foundation that smoothed out her skin tone while leaving her freckles visible. Sansa used light tones, giving Brienne a natural look that accentuated her cheekbones and full lips. Only around the eyes, did Sansa use heavier eye liner and darker tones to bring out Brienne’s startlingly blue eyes.

 

Brienne rarely wore make-up herself but she could tell Sansa knew what she was doing. Mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, eye brow pencil. Brienne watched in wonder as her face began to change and a woman she didn’t know emerged from the mirror. Like an artist Sansa worked until with one final touch she nodded, satisfied.

 

“There we go,” Sansa muttered.

 

Brienne looked at herself in the mirror and felt tears well in her eyes. Somehow, for the first time in her life she looked in the mirror and saw a woman who looked…beautiful.

 

“Don’t cry. It’s waterproof mascara but it hasn’t dried yet.”

 

“I’m not crying.”

 

“Sure you’re not,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Now if I turn around will you put the jumpsuit on without the underwear? Hang on, put your regular bra on and I’ll show you the boob trick.”

 

If Brienne hadn’t just witnessed Sansa Stark work magic with her make-up, Brienne would have thought her friend was talking nonsense. As it was, she went along with her bizarre instructions to put her bra back on and then dressed in the jumpsuit.

 

“Why are we doing this?” Brienne asked.

 

“You put your bra on, you tie the halterneck and then you take the bra off and that way it holds your boobs up. You’re lucky you have small boobs. It’s a nightmare wearing backless dresses if you don’t. Nothing stays in place.”

 

Brienne had never thought there was anything good about being nearly flat-chested. Combined with her height and strength, she had always thought her body looked masculine and awkward. But Sansa worked her magic and she was right. When Sansa was done it gave her breasts a lift that had been lacking before, filling out the front of the halterneck and showing just a hint of decoletage where the neck dipped low between her breasts.

 

“You’re standing wrong,” Sansa told her.

 

Brienne’s eyes slowly panned around from the mirror to Sansa. “This is how I stand,” Brienne said slowly.

 

Sansa pulled up a chair and stood on it, by Brienne’s side. Then she put a finger on the top of Brienne’s skull, right on the top of her head. “Imagine you’re a puppet on a string and there’s an imaginary string right here in the middle of your head pulling you up.”

 

Reluctantly, Brienne stood taller, stretching up. She felt her spine straighten, her neck lengthen.

 

“Lift your chin up.”

 

Brienne obeyed.

 

“Shoulders back, chest out.”

 

Brienne rolled her eyes but obeyed and Sansa smiled. “Now remember how it felt to win the Westoros National University Fencing Championship and you’ve just slayed every opponent in the seven kingdoms.” Brienne thought back and recalled the confidence she felt in that moment. Suddenly, staring back at her was a confident, sexual woman, who owned her height and looked like she would eat any man alive who came within six feet of her.

 

Sansa grinned. “Now, one final thing. I know you wanted to wear flats but I may have done one tiny piece of shopping on your behalf…” She pulled out a pair of ivory satin stiletto heels in Brienne’s size.


	35. Chapter 35

Jaime stood waiting, nervously, at the Weirwood tree trying not to snap at Myrcella for wearing a dress so inappropriately revealing that his daughter would never be allowed out in public in it again. It was, at least, in Lannister colours. Jaime supposed he should be thankful for something. Tyrion was currently chatting up one of the female staff who was putting the final touches to the candles that lined the pathway from Winterfell Castle. It was just about sunset, the sky filling with beautiful shades of red and blue and gold. Lannister and Tarth colours, Jaime thought appropriately.

 

Jaime had taken the sling off. He was still supposed to wear it as his arm continued to heal, but Jaime supposed a few hours wouldn’t hurt and Winterfell’s Maester had put on fresh bandages and complimented the work of the Maesters and doctors in King’s Landing. The last thing Jaime wanted was to have blood or puss all over his wedding doublet.

 

As a  Lannister, Jaime had many fancy clothes that were flashier than the typical tailor made suits most people wore for special occasions. Crimson fabric, gold embroidery and black velvet with black leather trousers might be somewhat flashier than most people wore for their wedding, but in his mind Jaime was secretly hoping that he would only be married once and if he went about things the right way, he could persuade Brienne that he intended to take this seriously.

 

Tommen meanwhile had gone off to wait in the hotel lobby. He was taking his role very seriously and had been practicing his words with Jon Snow as Jaime got ready.

 

The Northern Wedding ceremony was short and sparse. There was no music, no singing. Just the wilds, the weirwood tree and the words said before the old gods in front of those weeping eyes carved into the bark so long ago. As the sun dipped below the horizon, a bell rang far off and Myrcella whispered in his ear.

 

“Dad! It’s time.”

 

Jaime turned to Myrcella and found her smiling.

 

“I like her,” Myrcella shrugged. “You’re actually quite nice when she’s around.”

 

Jaime blinked. Myrcella’s comment was something of a back-handed compliment, but Jaime had no more time to think about Myrcella for down the path came Sansa Stark, her hair braided back in the Northern style wearing a fitted, long-sleeved dress while she scattered petals of the distinctive winter roses grown only in Winterfell. In the corner of his eyes Jaime spotted the photographer that Jon had arranged, moving around, finding their spot to take the photographs they intended to strategically leak to the press. But any thoughts of sensible arrangements, pre-nups and PR disappeared from Jaime’s head the moment he saw Brienne.

 

Tommen walked by her side, holding her hand, dressed smartly in a long knee-length traditional jacket and leggings of gold brocade with a small Baratheon stag embroidered on his left chest. Beside him, stood a Goddess in white silk. Her hips swayed as she floated up the path in white stilletto heels, her body draped in luxurious white silk that clung to her legs, her breasts and the small swell of her stomach. He could see her nipples, the outline of her breasts, the juncture of her thighs and the smooth skin between her breasts where the neckline plunged. Around her shoulders was draped a short cloak of feathers and in her hands, a small bunch of winter roses complimented the outfit. His emerald green eyes travelled up from her toes to rest on her eyes, the bluest most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, eyes he could get lost in. Eyes Jaime wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.

 

Jaime swallowed and felt his body respond as she drew closer. At the base of the Weirwood Tree, Jon Snow cleared his throat as Brienne came to stand before him, this confident and alluring woman he wanted to be side by side with for the rest of his life and Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off her.  His heart pounded in his chest as Tommen stopped before them.

 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

 

Tommen took in a deep breath, “Brienne of the House Tarth comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true born and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

 

Jaime gave Tommen a wink and a small smile. In return, Tommen grinned at the approval after getting his words right. “Jaime of House Lannister. Heir to Casterley Rock. Who gives her?” Jaime looked up at Brienne, who was valiently trying not to give in to the urge to bite her lip and it nearly drew a chuckle from his chest. But once Jaime’s eyes had met hers, he couldn’t look away from Brienne and Tommen’s words seemed distant when the boy spoke his next part.

 

“Tommen, of House Baratheon, who is her Liege Lord.” He said this with such a serious expression on his face that Brienne couldn’t help but break eye contact with Jaime to glance fondly at the small twelve year old boy claiming to be her liege lord. She looked back to Jaime and found him staring at her again, staring at her like she was the only thing that existed in the world and it took her breath away.

 

“Brienne,” Jon spoke softly, “Will you take this man?”

 

Brienne looked at Jaime, at his earnest expression, the Lion of Lannister, who had agreed to be a father to her children and had gone from being her tomentor to the truest friend she had ever known and more. He would always have a place in her heart, whatever his sister was to him. “I take this man.”

 

“Jaime,” Jon spoke again, “Will you take this woman?”

 

 _‘I love you,’_ Jaime thought. But he dare not say it out loud. He hope his eyes said enough, but right now it took Tyrion poking him to remind him to say the words. “I take this woman,” Jaime said.

 

Jon asked them to raise their hands and then slowly wound a piece of ribbon around binding Jaime’s left arm to Brienne’s right.

 

“Brienne of House Tarth and Jaime of House Lannister, you are now joined as one, married in the presence of the Old Gods on this night at Winterfell Castle and married in the eyes of Gods and Men.” Jon tilted his head with a smirk. “And women. You may now kiss.”

 

Brienne felt a tug on her arm and looked down to find Jaime using their bound arms to pull her towards him. He tugged again softly and Brienne came towards him, stepping into his personal space. She was taller than him with the heels Sansa had insisted she wear. Even without them she had an inch on him but Jaime’s eyes were warm and happy and he stretched his lips up towards hers, waiting.

 

Brienne paused, tentatively. Her eyes flickered to the small group of family and friends gathered around and feeling the weight of their expectation she obediently leaned down and pressed her lips against Jaime’s. She wasn’t expecting the way his eyes closed, the way his stump came up to rest against her neck, the way his mouth opened underneath hers and Jaime moaned into the kiss.

 

Brienne’s eyes closed. She wasn’t a good kisser, she wasn’t an experienced kisser, but Jaime Lannister didn’t seem to mind. The press of his lips against hers and the wet swipe of his tongue as he asked for more sent tingles all through her body, to the tips of her toes. His hand came to her waist as her own wound around his back and Brienne felt a pulse deep in her core.

 

At length they broke apart, breathing into each others mouth and slowly, Jaime pulled away, still staring into her eyes.

 

Brienne blinked.

 

Jaime turned his arm inside the loose knot that bound them together and threaded his fingers through hers. A small smile graced his face as he looked up at her. Brienne felt something then that she had never felt in the presence of a man. She felt loved. It both elated and terrified her. Why did this man, of all men, have to be the one who inspired that in her? Brienne’s heart didn’t have the strength for love. She had lost too much, suffered too much. She wanted to remind herself of how terrifying it was to lose people and to remind herself only to do what was necessary, but when she looked at Jaime again Brienne could not help but feel a warmth spreading inside her as a cold chill began to creep into the air. Around them, the last of the light was fading from the horizon and the stars overhead were beginning to shine.

 

Nearby, first Tommen and then Myrcella came to congratulate them and then Tyrion, Sansa and Jon followed suit. Led by Jaime and Brienne the small wedding party made their way back to the castle where a modest banquet was laid out in the castle’s old hall and though they ate and drank and joined in the merriment over the rest of the night, Brienne’s mind kept coming back to Jaime and that kiss. That smile.

 

Brinne would look at Jaime from time to time and wonder, wonder what was going through his mind. Wonder if he would mind practicing kissing again with Brienne, would mind being seen to kiss her wide mouth and buck teeth and his tall bride. Wonder if the whole world would laugh and think it some terribly good joke. Brienne looked to Sansa and received a small supportive nod in return and Brienne fought the urge to shrink back inside herself and disappear from the crowd. Tyrion made a good speech. Brienne, who had always been slow with words, struggled to think of anything to say in response and Myrcella thankfully took pity on her and said some polite, graceful things about the union of Lannister and Tarth and welcoming Brienne into the family.

 

Beneath the table, Jaime still held her hand and when it was time to head up to their chamber, Brienne allowed Tyrion’s bawdy jokes and Jon’s whistles to wash off her bare back.

 

Up, up, the long stairs to the tallest tower in Winterfell where there was an old wooden bed with red velvet curtains, the finest bedlinens, the warmest rug and a crackling fire. There was the finest white sparkling wine from the Arbor and strawberries and fresh flowers but the adornments of the room were lost on her as Jaime softly closed the old door.


	36. Chapter 36

All the way up the stairs Jaime had been fighting with himself. Fighting with his body. He could feel his arousal, had done little to hide it. Could feel his heart pound. Could feel his chest heave with deep breaths. Could smell the light perfume Sansa had chosen for his wife mixed with the distinctive salty air of Brienne. She was an islander, a woman of the sea and Jaime longed to lick the sweat off her skin, trace maps on her freckles and get lost at sea in her body. It was terrifying, the thought of telling her this. Showing her this. He didn’t want to ruin everything by speaking too soon. Perhaps it was better if he just didn’t say anything at all, if he just let happen whatever she wanted to happen. Jaime opened the door to the isolated honeymoon suite and entered.

 

Jaime felt Brienne’s presence behind him. Her hand on his shoulder. “Jaime?”

 

“Brienne,” Jaime turned around, his eyes open, calm and honest. He blinked. “Just…for the record…it is our wedding night…”

 

“Yes,” Brienne’s gaze fixed on Jaime, his eyes dark and wide in the dim light of the room with only the flickering flames of the wood burning stove to see by.

 

“And I was thinking…wondering, might be more accurate…whether there might be a possibility of – whether you might be willing to – that is to say that…I would like to…”

 

Jaime…”

 

“…be your husband. Properly.”

 

Jaime’s hand came to rest on her waist, traced around to her stomach where she was starting to show. Just a little, barely noticable but Jaime was sure it was there. “Only if you want it,” He said very softly.

 

Brienne, stared into his eyes for a long time, searching for any hint of trickery or doubt but there was none. Only Jaime, his open honesty and the friendly warmth he had displayed to her these last months since they started this endeavour. Briefly her mind flickered to Cersei, but the Maesters and Doctors had carried out every test under the sun at the hospital. As the last shred of doubt was vanquished from her mind, at length she gave a small nod.

 

Jaime took his time in untying the knot gathering the feathered cape around her shoulders. He only had one hand, but he was determined to do it himself. With the utmost care he untied the laces and laid the delicate cape to one side. His eyes skimmed over the revealing silk halterneck, the outline of her breasts, her hips, her waist, her back. He stepped closer and wound his stump around her ribs.

 

Brienne’s willpower broke. Whatever the arrangements or conveniences that had brought them to this place, right here and right now she wanted him and what he was offering. Asking with his body and his hands and his eyes and yet at every movement he waited for her. With shaking hands Brienne reached for his doublet and then when Jaime leaned into her touch, lace by lace she began to loosen it off revealing the shirt underneath. Carefully she pushed the rich fabric of the doublet off his shoulders leaving him in the cotton undershirt he wore underneath.

 

Jaime toed off his boots and Brienne did the same with her heels bringing them to almost the same height, although she still had about an inch on her new husband. She looked at him, coming back to Jaime to untuck his shirt and pull it from his trousers.

 

“Just out of curiosity,” Jaime reached out and fingered the silk of her jumpsuit with one hand, “Do you like me in the doublet? Or should I have gone for the tailored suit after all?”

 

“You looked very handsome,” Brienne mumbled. Her hands paused on the laces at the neck of his shirt, toying with them. When they were untied she could card her fingers through his chest hair, the way she had the only time they had been together.

 

“I knew it,” Jaime smiled at her. He didn’t have words for it – the lightness he felt in her presence, the way his heart sang. The way he wanted nothing more in this world than simply to please her. To make her blush and smile. To hear her laugh. Had he ever even heard her laugh? Jaime enjoyed letting her pick at his clothing, enjoying her nervousness at exploring his body. The back of her hand ran over the bulge in his trousers and his hissed, desiring more pressure. When Brienne stopped, Jaime closed his eyes and leaned closer, his lips hovering near her ear. “It’s all for you, you know,” Jamie sought out her gaze. Her hand hovered uncertainly but he pressed himself into her touch.

 

Brienne’s eyes sought his, uncertainly. “Don’t tease me.”

 

“You’re wearing _that_ and you’re talking about _me_ teasing _you_?” Jaime raised one hand and with exceeding gentleness touched the side of her breast with the back of his knuckle. Jaime had thought often about their night together. Longed for the warmth of her body, the feel of her lying next to him. He stood, waiting, knowing this had to be her choice and silently pleading that she would go through with it. Jaime vowed to do everything he could to be worthy of her, of their children, to be a good husband…and a good father. Something he would not have thought possible, if not for her. His wife. His Brienne.

 

Tenderly, Brienne’s hands returned to his clothing and removed his shirt, then his stockings. When he was wearing nothing but his breaches Brienne paused one last time to take in the sight of him before she caught Jaime smirking at her.

 

“Shut up,” She muttered.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

Brienne blushed, but commenced her efforts to divest him of clothes and when he was nude Jaime guided her hand to him, wrapping her long calloused fingers around and encouraging a slow rhythm.

 

Jaime moaned quietly at her touch, her gentle exploring, and all other thought escaped him as the world reduced down to this moment, with Brienne. The smell of her skin, the touch of her hand, the soft curve of her hip. He leaned in, crowding her, breathing her in and then when he was close Jaime had merely to say her name and Brienne pulled back.

 

With a confidence she did not feel, Brienne untied the silk halterneck and let the garment slide to the floor. Jaime moved in on her, his left hand flat on her stomach, his temple leaning into hers so that his nose nudged her cheek and then he slid to his knees and pressed his lips against her stomach and glanced up at her, one flicker of his eyes conveying his intentions.

 

Brienne’s resolve faltered but Jaime’s eyes were unwavering. “Let me…” He whispered, a small plea in his voice.

 

Not for the first time, Brienne wondered just what the hell she was doing marrying Jamie Lannister. Her hand reached out and caressed his short hair about his ears, which made him moan exquisitely. With some trepidation Brienne gave him a small, “Okay.”

 

Three orgasms later, Brienne manhandled Jaime onto the bed. She wanted him on top and he didn’t seem to mind that. With his arm in the state it was, Jaime had to put most of his weight onto her. Brienne’s legs came up around his hips as he slid deep inside her and set as fast a pace as she demanded, her hands clawing his back as Brienne used all her strength to pull him to her. Jaime happily obliged, letting out all the lust and longing for her he had held back over the months since their first union. He came hard, spilling himself inside her and Brienne slid a hand between them, bringing herself to completion one last time.

 

Jaime nuzzled her nose with his own then gently pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was brief and gentle but when he pulled back to look into her eyes he saw her searching hopefully. “I’m not teasing you when I say I want you, Brienne.”

 

Brienne looked up at him and could not find the words, so he pillowed his head on her breast and continued to caress her skin with his lips.

 

An hour later Brienne’s lips cautiously sought his and he responded eagerly and when she hooked a leg over his, Jaime chuckled at her eagerness. It was some minutes before he was ready and he amused himself teasing her with his fingers as his body lazily worked at his own, exhausted arousal. At length he guided himself inside her, enjoying the soft sigh and the fall of her eyelids as they joined and the slow sway of their hips as they moved in an easy rhythm. Brienne’s lips continued to seek his and they canted their hips slowly, a quiet and langorous union that had them both falling deep into sound sleep in post-coital bliss.

 

In the morning he rose to Brienne’s ugly snoring and snorted into the pillow at the ridiculous expression on her face as she drooled, mouth open. He smiled and kissed her temple and went to the en suite bathroom to pee. Jaime came back and snuck back under the covers. His stump he was still in the habit of cradling next to his body but his left arm he wound around her waist, his head next to hers on the pillow. Jaime couldn’t help but notice the differences in her body since their first time together. He could but hope she would give him the chance with her he so desperately wanted.

 

Brienne woke some time later with a bursting bladder. It took her a few moments to come around and as her brain surfaced to consciousness, Brienne felt the press of warm lips to her forehead and Jaime’s soft breath tickling her skin. Brienne’s eyes flickered open to see Jaime’s welcoming smile and he leaned in to kiss her on the lips. She blinked and remembered the wedding. They were married.

 

“Morning, Wife.”

 

“I need to pee.”

 

Jaime simply smiled and let her go, enjoying the sway of her butt as she walked to the en suite and her embarrassment a few minutes later at returning under his unashamed scrutiny. Brienne slid under the covers and pulled them up over her breasts as if he hadn’t just had a wonderful view of them all the way across the room.

 

“When do we leave for Dorne?”

 

“This afternoon. I imagine the rest of the wedding party is probably having breakfast, right about now.”

 

Brienne glanced sideways at her husband. And wasn’t that a weird thought. “Jaime…?”

 

“Brienne,” He shuffled closer.

 

Brienne had never been good with words and was struggling right now to find the right ones. All she could think of was his vow to be a proper husband and she had taken him at his word and taken him to bed and now she wondered, in the broad light of day, what it all meant.

 

But Jaime Lannister knew a thing or two about his wife by now and placed a fingertip to her wide mouth. “You don’t need to say anything. We have our whole honeymoon to figure it out. All I know, Brienne Tarth, is that I want you in my life and hopefully, once you’ve thought about it, you’ll decide that you want me in yours as well.”

 

Brienne’s wide eyes stared at him in terror and wonder.

 

Jaime couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her freckled nose. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, but Brienne was not naturally physically affectionate although Jaime planned to turn that around over the course of their marriage. “Just promise you won’t divorce me before we visit Tarth. I promised Tommen blanket forts on the beach.”

 

“The beach is wet, you idiot!”

 

“If you don’t mind, I rather object to the term idiot and would prefer that you address me from now on as husband.”

 

“Idiot husband,” Brienne muttered.

 

“That’s more like it,” Jaime rested his head on her shoulder.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had as much time to proof read this one as previous chapters to please excuse any typos etc. but I wanted to keep up with the update schedule.

When they eventually showered and made their way down to breakfast, Tommen  was already tucking into his longed for Northern Breakfast and Jon Snow was smirking in the corner at the sight of Tommen boldy endeavouring to work his way through the mammoth breakfast he had chosen. Tyrion was nowhere to be seen but Myrcella was delicately eating fruit salad with a fork and chastising her little brother for eating like a slob but Tommen’s mouth was too full to respond.

 

Brienne felt a blush rise to her face as the entire room turned as one at their entrance and a cheer went up. Brienne knew that they knew, and could not abide the thought but Jaime, being the dork that he was, bestowed an exaggerated bow upon them and and thanked them all profusely until Myrcella begged him to sit down.

 

“You are so embarrassing!” Myrcella grumbled.

 

Brienne could not help but smile at seeing Jaime decide to sit beside her, almost entirely for that comment. Brienne sat at his other side as the Winterfell staff fetched them tea and coffee and fruit juice and took their orders for breakfast. Brienne ordered a dish of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. Jaime was in too good a mood to grumble about her love of smoked fish and ordered porridge.

 

Brienne opened her mouth to comment on his choice of a plain breakfast until she caught Jaime’s warning look. How he knew exactly what she was thinking, Brienne had no idea but one look at Tommen scraping away with his knife working through his cooked breakfast and Brienne pressed her lips together and maintained her silence. Jaime was choosing things he could eat with one hand and he followed it up with a prepared fruit salad and then a pastry that he could pick up and eat with his hand and by the time he had finished, Brienne was assured that he had done his best in the circumstances. Privately, part of Brienne wondered how Jaime could sit there chatting away with his family after the night they had just had but she could see some of the way he interacted with them was about putting on a positive, encouraging face for them at the best of times and so she mentally gathered herself and resolved not to focus on the quiet, satisfied ache or the desire to hold his hand and never let go. She was a step-mother now, Brienne realised, and vowed to act with the decorum her position demanded, though there were fewer years between herself and Jaime’s children than her and Jaime.

 

Brienne enquired politely about Dornish dresses and how Myrcella was enjoying her time there and poked Jaime under the table when he opened his mouth to object to the news that Myrcella had met a nice young Dornish man, a Martell in fact, whom she was presently dating.

 

“What’s his name?” Jaime asked, his voice low and reserved. Held back.

 

“Trystane,” Myrcella chimed, as if the name itself brought joy and sunshine into her life.

 

Jaime’s eyebrows rose, “You’re dating Trystane Martell?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do the Martell’s know?”

 

“Yes, and his stepmother, or Aunt or…whatever she is. She’s not nearly as nice as Brienne is.”

 

Brienne cleared her throat. “I’m sure she’s just protective of her family, as most parents are.”

 

“Mother isn’t,” Myrcella sniped.

 

“Don’t talk about your mother like that!” Jaime didn’t snap exactly, but there was an edge to his voice that Brienne had not heard before. Brienne looked from one to the other, wondering if she should intervene but knowing, somehow, that she needed to trust Jaime to navigate this situation himself. “I know things haven’t been easy,” Jaime continued more softly. “And I think for all of our sakes it would be best to keep any conversation concerning your mother to another time, but on the subject of Trystane Martell, please be careful. I don’t know the boy personally but the Martell’s can be dangerous. They have never liked the Lannisters.”

 

“Trystane isn’t like that. He’s different.”

 

“Then…I will trust your judgement. And, perhaps sometime soon Brienne and I might have the opportunity to meet him.”

 

“Or, just you and Jaime,” Brienne butted in, “If you’d prefer.”

 

Jaime looked at her, surprised and disappointed at what he perceived to be Brienne’s lack of support.

 

“However much you may want me there, Jaime, I am new to this family and it’s more important that Myrcella feels she has your support. Myrcella,” Brienne glanced at her meaningfully, for Jaime’s benefit, “Needs to know that she can depend on you and that I won’t get in the way of that. So if she needs it to be you, and only you, then it isn’t my place to take offence when a young girl seeks the support of her…uncle.”

 

A look of relief crossed Myrcella’s face and Brienne gave her fleeting smile. “Jaime, we both grew up without our mothers. I know my father had a different woman in his house every year. I can barely remember half their names. Myrcella and I will work things out,” Brienne looked at her stepdaughter and received a kind, hopeful expression in response. “I can be there if you want me there,” Brienne told Myrcella calmly. “And if not you can entertain your father while I run a bath, put my feet up and leave crumbs all over the sofa,” Brienne finished smugly. It was enough to make  Myrcella giggle and Jaime narrow his eyes at her.

 

“Don’t give me that look as if I don’t know you have a fully serviced apartment. You’ve probably never cleaned down the back of the sofa in your life. Which probably also means your cleaner is getting plenty of extra tips from all the loose change you keep dropping down there.”

 

“You don’t know I drop loose change down the back of the sofa,” Jaime pointed out.

 

“It’s a sofa,” Brienne insisted, “Everyone drops loose change down the back of the sofa.”

 

Brienne saw Tommen watching the exchange with interest and bit back a laugh at the sight of him clearly making mental notes. She had to confess, after the stress of the last few weeks it would be nice to get away from it all and, hopefully, have some time to work things out with Jaime but it was good, too, to have this time together with Myrcella and Tommen before they left. Sansa Stark was later down to breakfast and Tyrion followed a little while after which had Jaime giving Brienne a significant look that Brienne ignored. Sansa hated the Lannisters, she was almost absolutely sure that Sansa would never consider hooking up with one. Almost.

 

But time marched on apace and before long it was time to return upstairs to pack. They were checking out at noon and Jon Snow personally waited at the door to say goodbye with best wishes for the bride and groom and bestowing many blessings of the Old Gods. Sansa, understandably, was staying behind for a few days. Having been given the opportunity to visit home, and having already disrupted her studies, she saw little extra harm in staying an extra couple of days before returning to King’s Landing. As it happened, Tommen and Myrcella were interested in having a day or two to rest before returning to King’s Landing and Dorne and Tyrion had somewhat begrudingly agreed to watch over his niece and nephew. When it was time to say farewell, Jaime was polite and courteous, bidding Sansa adieu with a small formal bow and profuse thanks for her friendship to his wife.

 

“You don’t have to like me,” Jaime told Sansa, “But I know how much you mean to Brienne and I owe you many times over for doing so much for her.”

 

Brienne, standing by his side, cleared his throat. “Jaime, I’m standing right here.”

 

“Well tell her yourself then,” Jaime pushed.

 

Brienne felt a familiar blush rise to her cheeks. “Thank you Sansa,” Brienne said very formally and allowed Sansa to clasp her into a warm embrace.

 

Jaime went off to see Tommen and Myrcella and received a hug from each of them which he happily returned and reminded them to be good. Tommen insisted on saying goodbye to Brienne as well and they both watched as Tommen waved until the car was out of sight. Before long, Jaime and Brienne were alone on their flight, sat side by side in the quiet of the Lannister Corporation jet, taking them away to Jaime’s secret honeymoon location. Brienne sat quietly, watching, as a polite employee offered them drinks and tended to their every need. Jaime sat quietly by her side, holding her hand and casting her small glances. She sensed he had something to say but was biding his time. For her part, Brienne was enjoying a few moments of quiet, enjoying for once the surprise of being whisked away from their wordly troubles to a promised week of quiet, sun and beautiful beaches.


	38. Chapter 38

“Just tell me you didn’t book our honeymoon on Tarth,” Brienne spoke quietly.

 

Jaime Lannister chucked. “As tempting as that was…no.”

 

“Thank the Gods.”

 

“Which ones?”

 

“Any of them, at this point,” Brienne said deadpan.

 

The peculiar sensation of something tickling her palm drew Brienne’s attention to the steady back and forth of Jaime’s thumb against her skin. Brienne looked at him with curiousity, a query in her gaze.

 

“I’m glad it was you,” He said, a softness in his voice that was more suited to the darkness of the previous night. "If I had to marry someone." 

Brienne couldn’t find a response to that so she remained silent and let him continue, which he did.

“And, I’m glad that it’s you I’m starting a family with,” Jaime squeezed her hand, “I’m still amazed, given how shy you were in the first months at the office that you had the gumption to ask in the first place.”

 

Brienne could only agree with his assessment. She stared at Jaime’s hand where it held hers. It astonished her too, sometimes. All of it. That she had asked, that he had agreed, that he chose to spend his time in her company, that he had agreed to their marrying. That they had become friends. That he treated her with kindness and, Brienne hoped she did the same in return.

 

“I would like us to be a family, Brienne,” Jaime continued.

 

Brienne blinked, her mind slowly turning, not quite processing what he was saying. “Of course we’ll be a family,” Brienne searched his gaze but there was something more there in his eyes that made Brienne uncomfortable and she tried to snatch her hand back.

 

Jaime just blinked lazily at her and when Brienne searched his eyes, behind the bravado there was a tentativeness there, a fear that she had never seen before. What did Jaime Lannister have to be afraid of? Was he afraid of her?

 

“We get along pretty well, don’t we?” Jaime said with what seemed like false cheer making Brienne wonder if he was putting on that front again that he used to put on at the office, playing the bit-part that Brienne thought he had long since given up in her presence. “I mean, you can't tell me you never thought about giving it a shot.”

 

Give what a shot? Brienne didn’t understand. He couldn’t be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting. For days now Jaime had been making allusions that Brienne was struggling to believe. Jaime had a whole complicated car crash of a relationship with his sister, for goodness sake. But Brienne did not have the energy at that moment to press him on the subject. It confused Brienne when Jaime talked this way and it continued to confuse her in the face of his sullen silence all the way to landing.

 

As the cabin door opened upon landing, the heat was the first thing that hit Brienne, the warm humid heat of the southernmost latitudes of Westeros. The distinctive salty taste of the air and the warm sway of palm trees and grape vines, with perfectly manicured lawns, well-pointed masonry walls and the soft lulling noise of the surf on the shore.

 

They were met at the door by a smiling woman adorned with flowers in her hair, too-white teeth and voluptuous dark eyes that matched the luscious locks of her black tumbledown curling hair.

 

“Welcome to the Arbor, Mister and Mrs Lannister. We hope you enjoy your honeymoon.”

 

Perfect. Just perfect, Brienne fumed. Jaime had booked the most romantic, exclusive high-end resort this side of the Narrow Sea.

 

Of course he had.

 

 

The Arbor was a tropical paradise. Walm, balmy air with a light breeze and thick tropical foliage interspersed with grassy clearings for leisure areas or residential huts. They passed pools, lawns and sunbathing areas and a long paved promenade that shadowed the pristine white sand of the beach and all the little matching umbrellas. Jaime refused to look at her as they were shuttled to their residence, a large secluded building of yellow-orange stone in the Dornish style with expansive rooms, fine white linen curtains billowing in the windows and its own private pool and beach. There was a jetty with a yacht and a secluded poolside sunbathing area well away from the rest of the hotel and spa. There was a porch, with a barbeque out back and a swing seat with a sea view out front. Or a love seat, as Brienne knew some liked to call it.

 

There was champagne and strawberries waiting for them. Fresh flowers, a fully stocked fridge and a long verbal list of all the services provided by the hotel and spa. Massages, personal trainers, snorkelling and sailing. There were three communal pools, tennis courts, sports coaching and daily workout classes. The town was a ten minute walk where the waterfront provided exclusive high class clubs and restaurants and an independent cinema that hosted a small film festival every year. There was a marina on the other side of town where a berth had been reserved at Mister Lannister’s request and the whole island was dotted with discreet coves one could sail to which were perfect for romantic day trips. There was a regular wine tour of local vineyards with wine tasting sessions, which could be booked by calling the reception desk at any time.

 

After a while, Brienne zoned out and walked through the large open-plan kitchen diner that took up most of the ground floor of the two-story residence and out onto the front porch to the view of the sea. Her heart yearned for the small, perfectly formed yacht tied up at the end of the private wooden jetty, for days getting away from it all, sailing away from worldly troubles and setting out to sea. Catching a wind, her mind imagining the particular tilt of a line of close-hauled yachts strung out like pearls trying to make their next waypoint or flying downwind, kites out, course made good.

She missed sailing like she missed breathing and the treacherous waters outside King’s Landing hardly made for an attractive day out. This, however, was an entirely different prospect. Seas almost as blue as the Sapphire Isle, white sands, palm trees, plenty of shade under the well-groomed trees and she could literally walk down the porch steps and onto their own private beach.

 

Money was no object. They could order room service or walk into town.

 

Walk hand in hand down the beach at sunset.

 

Sleep together in the master bedroom.

 

Just her and Jaime.

 

Brienne closed off those thoughts and turned back to the door to find Jaime thanking the resort manager – the Manager had met them personally? – and pushing a large gold coin into her hand for her trouble while clearly trying to get rid of the woman as politely as possible.

 

Brienne bit her lip at Jaime’s overly polite, simpering smile and the way he rolled his eyes and lifted his hands up when he finally got the door closed.

 

Brienne kicked off her shoes and immediately slumped on a nearby chaise longe. As cosy and homely as Winterfell had been, it was still full of people. This was peace, quiet and solitude and although there was a certain amount of awkwardness attached to the pretence of romantic with this whole escapade, Brienne had to admit she couldn’t even remember the last time she'd had a holiday. There didn’t seem much point going away on her own and most of the spare money she had she ploughed into projects on Tarth.

 

Jaime came over and crouched by her head, his hand coming up to stroke her hair, “Hey.”

 

“Hey yourself.”

 

“Tired?”

 

“Exhausted,” Brienne sighed.

 

“Then why don’t I draw you a bath? I can’t get my stump wet but I’m told the bathroom is big enough for half the King's Landing University Fencing Team.”

 

Brienne hummed happily at the thought of warm water, bubbles and relaxing music. “Yes, please?”

 

Jaime smiled and kissed her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

 

 

Jaime drew the bath as promised and left her to it, telling her to rest as much as she needed to and to enjoy her bath. Some time later, Brienne was halfway to dozing off in the cooling bubbles when Jaime knocked gently on the bathroom door and Brienne blinked her eyes open to find Jaime stripping. Why was Jaime stripping? Then he started walking – naked – towards the bath giving Brienne a full frontal view.

 

Brienne yelped and scooped bubbles towards her. “Jaime! What are you doing?”

 

“Having a bath?”

 

“I’m having a bath!”

 

“Brienne it’s nearly the size of the swimming pool out back there. It’s plenty big enough for both of us.”

 

“You’re not wearing any clothes!”

 

“When was the last time you wore clothes to the bath, Brienne, or do they do that a little differently in Tarth as well?”

 

Brienne frowned. Truth be told the sight of him reminded her a little too much of just how enjoyable last night had been, of the feel of his arms and his broad chest, of the planes of her muscles against his, of his kindness and warmth, of the way he looked into her eyes as he moved inside of her.

 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Jaime groused as he lowered himself into the water.

 

She blinked back to the present, struggling to find the words to deal with this. In truth, Brienne still found herself constantly confused and confounded by him. “I don’t understand.”

 

Jaime sighed heavily. “Look, I’d just like to have a bath with my wife. Is that such a problem?”

 

“I’m not really your wife,” Brienne’s brows drew together. Technically, yes, but not properly. This was all a sham. They both knew it was all a sham. They were married for show. It wasn’t a true marriage, not in their hearts. They might have grown to be friends, Brienne might even allow that she had become rather fond of Jaime over the last few weeks and months and, yes, she might have enjoyed the sex but she wasn’t really his wife. Not properly.

 

“Not my wife?” Jaime half closed his eyes, as if scrutinising the statement very carefully with his mind, but there was mockery too, though less harsh than Jaime’s mockery of her would have been once. “Actually, technically, you are my wife, Brienne. But for what it’s worth, I trust you not to jump your husband in the bath, since his arm is still healing and if he gets it wet you would, of course, be rather inconvenienced with a very public visit to the nearest emergency room.”

 

Brienne shrank back against the wall of the bath as if to increase the distance from Jaime. Why did he have to be like this today of all days, after last night?

 

Jaime tilted his head, turning it to inspect the stump of his arm where it was held above the surface of the warm bath water. “Is this because of last night?” He said, more softy.

 

Intense discomfort at the thought of having a conversation about sex was the only reaction that came to Brienne’s mind. She had enjoyed last night, she had enjoyed it rather a lot. Jaime Lannister was a friend, a colleague and the father of her children. They had entered into a mutually beneficial arrangement for their own purposes which had led to an arranged marriage to save face over the ridiculously outdated notion of having children out of wedlock and subsequently consummated the marriage. That was all.

 

Okay, so he was also insanely handsome and knew it. His ego took up more space than Jaime himself did and his tongue was wickedly sharp at slicing anyone who fell on the wrong side of him, which often times had been her. Of course, she knew now that there was another, gentler, intimate side of him that he let Brienne see sometimes and Brienne could admit that she liked that man. She liked that man a lot. The man who was gentle and kind and thoughtful, who took his time with her and liked her to lead, who liked to hold and be held, to trace her freckles by moonlight and stare silently into the crackling flames late into the night in contented silence.

 

The man who held her hand and kissed her fingers and made her feel beautiful.

 

The man who was now her husband.

 

Technically.

 

Brienne sighed heavily and looked away. When had it all gotten so complicated?


	39. Chapter 39

From his side of the bath, Jaime watched Brienne avoid eye contact with that near-permanent frown on her face as if she disapproved of the entire world and everyone in it. Although, mostly him. Once upon a time she had worn that expression every day at work. Since this arrangement had begun the frown had been appearing less and less but it was back and Jaime wanted to know why.

 

“I didn’t misunderstand something, did I? I didn’t overstep the mark?”

 

“What?”

 

“Last night. When we were together. I didn’t misunderstand something, right. About what you wanted.”

 

“What I wanted?” Brienne squirmed in her seat. She could barely admit to herself that she wanted him, how could Jaime possibly expect her to admit it to his face?

 

“Because,” Jaime pressed, “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if there was something you didn’t want when we were together?”

 

Brienne searched Jaime’s eyes and found them pressing her hard and uncompromising and yet beneath it all, pleading. Begging for reassurance.

 

“O-of course I would, Jaime.”

 

“Because it’s important that we’re on the same page here.”

 

Brienne glanced at him quickly. When she saw how intently Jaime was looking at her, looking at her body, Brienne crossed her arms over her breasts.

 

Jaime stared into her eyes, probing relentlessly and when she diverted her gaze once more he examined her body language instead, so different from last night. Closed off, cold, awkward, her shoulders hunched, hiding from him. “Last night wasn’t an anomaly, Brienne.”

 

“We had to consummate the marriage. Like you said, we’re allowed to enjoy it. That doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship, Jaime. I know what Cersei means to you and I don’t pretend to understand what exists between you and your sister but I know it takes presidence for you, it will always take presidence so as much as you and I might get along as friends, there’s no reason to make things harder than they are. I’m grateful that you agreed to help me and that you want to be around but we went into this knowing you had other…commitments.”

 

“Commitments?” Jaime probed, his eyes narrowing, angry. His stump jutting out above the water seeming to stick out like an accusing pointed finger from his non-existent hand. “To the woman who did this?”

 

The harshness of Brienne’s body language softened. “I told you,” Brienne said more quietly. “I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on between you, but I know how important she is to you and once she’s well again…” Her gaze flickered back to Jaime’s and she regretted it instantly. His eyes were sparking fire and vitriol.

 

“You really think I’m going to fuck you over and go back to someone who tried to control me, hurt me and stop me seeing my children?” Jaime stood up from the bath so quickly that the rush of blood to the head made him wobble. Brienne reached out to steady him and he let her but couldn’t let the issue go. “Tell me honestly that if Cersei wasn’t an issue you wouldn’t be pursuing a relationship with me!”

 

Brienne stopped, stunned. Where was this coming from. Jaime had clearly indicated how eager he was to be a family, to be there for the children, to be close, to be a good friend and, yes, their time together had been good. They had been enjoying it, making good memories as Jaime had put it once, right at the beginning. Was this declaration the reason for his confusing behaviour these last few days? “When will you get it into your thick skull that I want to be with you,” Jaime’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes and then he wrenched himself from her arms and stormed from the room.

 

Brienne waited until his footsteps had faded before leaving the bath and draining the water. She dressed in comfortable loose trousers and a vest top, suitable for the warm weather of The Arbor. She decided she needed to eat something to steady herself before talking to Jaime. Yes, she could admit to herself, if Cersei wasn’t around of course she would want a relationship with Jaime. Who wouldn’t? He was rich, handsome, he worked out, he was funny, quiet, sensitive, he had a private personality he kept for just those closest to him that had made Brienne fall in love with him. The loud, brash Jaime Lannister he put on for work and the public made Brienne roll her eyes where once it had brought tears of hurt to her eyes but she understood now that he was as lonely as she was and, possibly, as stunned at the development of the growing feelings between them. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of fruit juice from the refrigerator. Jaime’s relationship with Cersei had been abusive, Brienne reminded herself. She knew that and had expressed concern for it. Jaime had expressed the intention to never go back to Cersei.

 

But part of Brienne had never believed him. Cersei had been in his life since before he was born. He had never lived his life without her. Jaime might intend to sever ties, but saying something in anger and pain was different from the reality of cutting someone out of your life to whom you had been devoted and who had been such a massive influence even if that influence had not always been good and, yes, she found it hard to accept that someone as handsome and rich as Jaime Lannister could want a woman like her. Tall, plain, freckled, teeth that stuck out and caught on her lip, skin that burned at the first hint of the sun and masculine in her habits. Everything she had always been told a woman should not be.

 

She felt a presence nearby and found Jaime sitting on the sofa in the living room area at the other end of the open plan ground floor of their holiday residence. He was sitting, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and looking out at the view across the porch and out to sea.

 

Without turning to look at her, Jaime opened his mouth. “I need you to set some boundaries, Brienne, because I know what I want.” He stood up and walked back upstairs, unashamedly naked letting Brienne watch him as he went, his cute ass swaying as he made his way back upstairs leaving her alone.

 

Brienne overwhelmingly felt the need for fresh air and downed her drink, setting the glass on the kitchen island and setting foot outside to explore the path to the beach. The grass was warm and soft under her bare feet and Brienne sighed as she approached the familiar and welcoming sight of the ocean. The soft lapping of the waves on the sand was the lullaby of her childhood, the sunlight on the water brought peace to her mind and she took in a deep breath of salt air and suppressed the welling tears. The painful thing was, Brienne was sure that Jaime thought he knew what he wanted, but Brienne knew better. She was no catch. She was inexperienced. She was a womb for an heir, a high born woman of appropriate class and station for a man of Jaime Lannister’ background to acceptably knock up. He had been treated harshly most of his life, his family had hurt and isolated him and he was simply gravitating towards the first person to show him warmth and love since his mother had died. He had few friends, he didn’t get out much and Jaime didn’t have the perspective to see that he was in no position to know what he wanted in a committed relationship.

 

As much as it pained her, Brienne knew she had to do what was right, for both of them. For the sake of their children, for the sake of their friendship, she had to find a way to let him down gently even when it broke her own heart to do so. The day began to fade into evening and Brienne napped under the coconut trees on their private beach of The Arbor. Some time later, as the day began to cool and the sun started to sink towards the horizon the soft whisper of fabric and the padding of bare feet on the ground nearby roused her as Jaime came to sit at her side.

 

Like hypnosis she was pulled in by the power of Jaime’s eyes, her lids fell half closed and she leaned in, a hair’s breadth from his lips. His hand came to settle on her ribs and she felt the soft sigh of air from his exhales tickle her skin. The sound of a bird chirping loudly startled her and made her pull back and in that instant she wondered what the hell she was doing, setting herself up for more heartbreak. Jaime was a friend. A good friend. He meant a lot to her – more than a lot – and she had enjoyed the intimate time they spent together but she was in danger here of being drawn into something much deeper that she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to pull herself out of when it all came to an end. She was resolved, however. It had to be done and with the remembrance of the resolution in her mind, Brienne shied away from his touch.

 

“Jaime, I…” Brienne pulled back. “I think we need to stop.”


	40. Chapter 40

“Stop?” Jaime half pulled back, searching her eyes.

 

“Stop…being physical. With each other.” Rouge rushed to her face at simply saying the word out loud to his face, she was not confident or experienced when it came to matters of intimacy but Jaime demanded she be clear with him. “We consummated it, didn’t we, so it could be beyond reproach but we don’t need to…like I said before, I think it’s better if we don’t confuse things by turning it into something it’s not.”

 

“Something it’s not?” Jaime queried, his eyes holding a dangerous glint. “Confuse things? Did you hear what I said earlier or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

 

Brienne dropped her voice and glanced up at his eyes, “We’re not in a real relationship, Jaime.”

 

“No. Of course. It’s not a real marriage, is it?”

 

“Exactly. Jaime, we both know this is just for show. Please don’t over complicate it.”

 

Overcomplicate?” Jaime pushed. “Overcomplicate our marriage by treating you as my wife?”

 

“Overcomplicate something we both know isn’t real, by making it into something it’s not. You’ve been through a lot, it’s understandable that you would feel close to someone who has been around when you needed someone. I’m not convinced that you have the perspective to know what it is that you’re saying. I think you have to accept the possibility that you’ve confused our friendship for something else.”

 

“Something like a real marriage?” Jaime pushed and then swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. She could tell by his expression that he was violently suppressing his emotions.

 

Brienne nodded tentatively.

 

“No. We wouldn’t want that would we. We wouldn’t want any **confusion.** We only care about each other. Work together. Live in each others pockets, spend every waking moment together, look after each other in sickness and in health. We’re only having a family together. We only wake to see the other in the morning, live to see the other smile, make each other breakfast and lunch and dinner. We only share secrets we tell no one else, miss each other when they’re not there and want them when they are. You only chose me as your first, to be my wife, to be the mother of my heirs. I only lost a hand for you, want you, cherish you and, I think at this point it’s fair to say – just a little bit – love you. So how could our marriage possibly be anything other than a sham?” Jaime trailed off in a whisper and then lifted his gaze from his lap up to Brienne’s shocked, wide blue eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, her expression a confused, staring frown.

 

Jaime stopped. The wind whispered through the fronds on the leaves of the grove of palm trees next to the beach. On the horizon, the sky was turning to peach and pink and gold with the pale blue fading to dark as the shadow of darkness crept forth from the eastern horizon. Brienne watched him watch the sunset and trail the warm sand through his fingers and his toes, his stump cradled to his chest.

 

“I won’t apologise for loving you,” Jaime said firmly, staring off at the horizon. “I don’t need you to say anything, I don’t expect anything, Brienne. But you have to stop telling me my feelings are invalid.”

 

Brienne shifted herself slightly to sit by his side. “They’re not invalid,” She said with care, “It’s just difficult for me to accept that they’re real.”

 

“I don’t mean to cause you any discomfort by telling you how I feel. I’m just trying to be honest,” Jaime ground out and this time when he looked at her with such passion and love and hurt and pain that Brienne physically felt her world tilt, as if the whole pull of gravity had just shifted and Brienne knew for the first time that what he felt just might be real. That her persistent rejection caused him real pain, tore his world apart.

 

“Does the idea of someone wanting to be with you really cause you that much discomfort? Is it me, is it the hand? Because everything in me, Brienne, all the time we’ve spent together made me think you were different. You made me feel different. You made me like the man I am when you’re around. That’s not fake, Brienne, and I’ll be damned if I need your permission the way I needed hers.”

 

That made Brienne wince. She never thought that anything would make Jaime compare her to Cersei Lannister. “It’s not discomfort, Jaime, it’s…an adjustment.”

 

“Being loved?” Jaime deadpanned.

 

He regretted that when Brienne regressed into silence, staring out at the sunset and so he waited, hoping she would feel safe enough to share.

 

“Ever since Galladon died, and my mother, and my sisters…my father was there but not there. He never recovered from my mother’s death. What little part of him survived was torn asunder at my brother’s drowning.” Drowning. Brienne could picture it now as she stared out at sea. The image of her young brother cradled in their father’s arms, the attempts at resuscitation that all came to naught. His limp, lifeless body still in his bright swimming short. “Other children didn’t like me, didn’t play with me and didn’t want me in their company. By the time most people have their first boyfriend I already knew I would spend my life alone and I learned to accept it, over time. Learned to enjoy my own company. To cope with being alone. It became so normal for me that I never sought anything else. I worked, I focused on Tarth, on rebuilding and, ever since my father’s death, on doing my duty by my House. I have always been a creature of solitude. I live in parallel to others, Jaime. I live around them, in interact with them, but they don’t inhabit my world. I thought of one child because, with one, it would be **our** solitude instead of my solitude and I could live with that. What you’re asking, what you’re offering, is not what I had ever come to expect for my life. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings when you tell me you want me in your life, but you’re asking me to change my world.”

 

“Well, you changed mine,” Jaime pressed. “I need to know, Brienne. I need to know if it’s just me. I need to know if I’m going mad or if you really felt on our wedding night the way I think you felt.”

 

Brienne braced herself, swallowed and gritted her teeth. She looked at Jaime long and hard and searched his eyes and after a long time opened her mouth. Without changing her expression Brienne said very quietly, “It’s not just you…and you’re not imagining it.”

 

Relief flooded Jaime’s face and he grinned and reached for her hand. Reluctantly, Brienne allowed him to take it. She was still wary, she still felt like she needed space and time to process this all, to accept that his feelings were genuine, to reconcile herself with her world view when Jaime had made the whole thing tilt on it’s axis.

 

Brienne’s expression was still serious but it was lost on Jaime as he cradled their joined hands. Brienne softly shook her head. “It’s just a lot, Jaime. For someone like me.”

_‘There is no one like you,’_ Jaime thought, _'There is only you.’_

 

Brienne carefully turned her head from the image of the sunset to see Jaime’s reaction.

 

He stared back at her, his eyes open and honest, blinking slowly.“I know that,” Jaime said. “I know it’s a lot. I also know, how great we are together and you’re not the only one who didn’t expect something like this to come along but now it has, isn’t it worth cherishing?”

 

Brienne looked down at the sand, at the warm gold and red hues of the light spilling over the tiny rivults and dunes of the beach. Brienne’s fingers snaked through warm flowing grains to find the bandaged end of his stump and then trailing her fingers up to grip his bicep and shuffle herself closer and then, with a gentle outlet of breath she gently grasped his arm. “I’m going to need to some space, Jaime, some time to get used to it. To decide if I want this.”

 

“I can do that,” Jaime insisted.

 

Against her will, Brienne found a snort of laughter bubble up out of her. “You are the most impatient man I have ever met.”

 

“I trust you. You’ll come to the right decision.” Jaime smiled, “Just think about it, for a while. I don’t need an answer right away. I just need you to consider that something different, something better is possible for you…for us. Something way better than the world had led you to believe you deserve.”

 

Brienne’s soft sigh was as close as she would ever get to allowing Jaime to believe he might be right. “But where would we live?”

 

“Wherever you want.”

 

“What about Myrcella and Tommen?”

 

“What about them? They love you.”

 

“I can’t possibly be a mother to four kids.”

 

“Sure you can,” Jaime shrugged. “You’re Brienne of Tarth. You can do anything.”

 

Brienne squinted at Jaime.

 

“I was thinking of Tarth, actually,” Jaime continued.

 

Brienne stared out at the boat and imagined a life where she could sail as often as she wanted once more. “Our jobs are in King’s Landing,” Brienne felt the need to point out.

 

“Yeah, but I’m the eldest son of Tywin Lannister and you’re carrying his grandchildren. This is an historic alliance, don’t you know? So if he heard a persuasive case for development opportunities in Tarth…” Jaime left that thought hanging.

 

“Like a watersports centre?”

 

“Like anything you want.”

 

“An eco-tourist resort,” Brienne plucked out the idea that had been rattling around the back of her mind for as long as she could remember. “With whale watching trips, and a new marina, and a little row of shops along the waterfront. We could set up tours of the old cave systems and turn the great hall into a community centre once it’s restored…”

 

Jaime shuffled around so he was sitting behind Brienne where she was lying against the coconut tree and nudged her. “Sit forward a bit.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I am finally taking up my rightful place as my pregnant wife’s human pillow. What do you think I’m doing?”

 

Brienne paused, considered, and then complied with his wishes and Jaime slid himself into the space between Brienne’s body and the base of the tree and then pulled Brienne into him and let her lean her back against his chest. Jaime slid his arms around her body and let them settle on her stomach.

 

“That’s better.” Jaime clutched her body against his and pecked her on the cheek and he felt Brienne come to lay her hands over his where they rested on her stomach near the waist of the loose holiday beach pants she had pulled on to disguise the fact that a good number of her regular trousers were much too small to wear now. “I can feel the difference you know.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me,” Brienne let lout a long sigh and let herself fall back into his arms. She had never known Jaime to be this affectionate with anyone, not even Cersei, not even his children. In this moment, sitting on the beach in his arms watching the sun set, knowing she was carried their beloved children inside of her, a blooming spark of hope opening in her heart. She allowed herself to contemplate for the first time what life would be like with Jaime. Allowing herself to love him. To tell him how she felt, to be affectionate. To hold his hand and have him look at her like she was a Goddess walking on water in spite of her plain features and uneven teeth and her height and freckles and everything else. Allowing herself to believe that he wanted this, allowing herself to trust him, to trust that maybe a relationship between them could work after all.

 

Jaime hummed happily and rubbed her belly with great reverence. “While you’re thinking over how soon you divorce me, what do you think we should do tomorrow?”

 

Her eyes settled on the small white yacht tied up at the end of the jetty and imagined the two of them, their own solitude, their own little happy family bliss on Tarth. Well, if he was going to be an islander there was one thing he would definitely need to know.

 

“Lets go sailing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still a short epilogue to go up tomorrow.


	41. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Tarth, Ten Years Later…_

 

They had decided on Tarths against Lannisters. Brienne and the twins were in the front yacht, Jaime in the second with Tommen and Myrcella. Tyrion, who was visiting from King’s Landing had decided he didn’t have sea legs and it would be better to spend the time on shore in the mess, ‘looking after the rum’.

 

The way markers were the letter marked bhoys laid out in the sea beyond the marina and the waters of Tarth were busy with visitors, day sailors and tourists. Since Tywin Lannister’s passing, Jaime took a more active role in the business, but much of the 'boring’ stuff he left up to Tyrion, who Jaime insisted was more book smart and savvy and had law and business degrees to back it all up. The eco-tourism resort Brienne had started had led to a shift in Lannister Corp’s Corporate Responsibilities blurb and Jaime oversaw the company’s growing investment in renewables and the environment from Tarth’s newly constructed business park. The watersports centre on Tarth funded through their new eco-tourism wing was Brienne’s pride and joy, adjoining the new Tarth Island Sports Facility with specialist fencing equipment. The line of commercial units they had constructed along the water front were largely occupied by small restaurants offering locally caught seafood and Stormland Specialities to the many tourists who came for long weekends and sailing holidays via the new, regularly scheduled flights from King’s Landing.

 

Jaime still avoided the guga and smoked fish.

 

 

From the tiller, Joanna glanced back at the chasing boat and waited for Galladon's shout that their own boat had passed the next bhoy. Joanna, it was often said, took after her mother's mother, though never having met the lady, Joanna could not speak to the likeness.

 

In the middle of the boat, their mother sat down and ducked her head as she prompted her daughter to make the turn.

 

"Stand by to gybe!" Joanna called.

 

With the tide going out and the sun high in the sky the light sparkled off the blue water as Brienne tightened the jib halyard and commended Joanna on her steering. Galladon was sitting up at the prow shouting directions as Brienne returned to uncleat the mainsheet and let it out to swing the boat wide of the bhoy.

 

 

They performed a slow gybe and Brienne luffed up, tightening the sails and calling instructions to Joanna on the tiller as they now ran upwind, close-hauled. Another yacht from the club was up ahead and another before that so that when Jaime made the turn, with some audible grumbling at Tommen carrying on the wind about the state of the Lannister boat jib sheets, with two other local families from the local yacht club also out sailing that day, the four boats were soon sailing the same course at the same tilt, strung out in a line. The wind was in Brienne’s hair, Jaime’s boat chasing theirs at her back and Myrcella laughing at her Dad for losing to Brienne even though Brienne was by far the better sailor. Brienne had to admit that even with a touch of grey peppering his hair he looked the part, his windcheater and sunglasses and the shorts and boat shoes he wore in the summer. Up at the prow Galladon, who was Jaime’s spit apart from the heavy dusting of freckles over his nose and cheekbones, called excitedly as a pod of dolphins joined in the fun and began swimming along the bow wave of the boats while overhead, nesting gannets left their homes on the cliffs to swarm above the waves, looking for the shoals of fish before they tucked their wings in and dived liked arrows towards the sapphire blue waters of the ocean.

 

It wasn’t where she thought she’d end up. Four kids. A husband. An island and several businesses to run. For years, solitude had been her constant companion. Now, she didn’t get as much sleep as she’d like and there wasn’t much rest but for Brienne of Tarth but as she looked around at her family and back at her husband’s boat gaining on her, Brienne felt her heart soar and knew she wouldn’t give this up for all the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge thank-you to everyone who cheerleaded me though the writing of this fic on tumblr, and for everyone here who has left kudos and commented and engaged with this story. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Since finishing this story I have put together a Storks Ltd. playlist on tumblr which I will link here. The idea is that the playlist mirrors the arc of the story and I have tried to choose songs that should mostly be available to download. 
> 
> https://faeriesfanficemporium.tumblr.com/post/158364299236/storks-ltd-playlist


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